


Thou Shalt (Not)

by D_Maradine



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Glowing Eyes, Includes Fanart, M/M, Murder Mystery, Unreliable Narrator, With A Twist, reliable later, small gestures, this tag is important trust me, vampire Ren, vampire hunter Goro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27169190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_Maradine/pseuds/D_Maradine
Summary: Crow is an elite vampire hunter. He has always followed the rules, unwavering.One night, during what seems to be an ordinary patrol, he accidentally breaks the first rule and the vampire slips from his grasp.But Crow isn't one to leave business unfinished.The hunt begins.Illustrated by @Poichanchan (twitter/tumblr/instagram)Updates everyday from 25/10 to 31/10.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 197
Kudos: 974
Collections: Dark Persona fics, Marigolds Discord Recs





	1. Prologue

There are seven rules the vampire hunters of the Holy Church of Yaldabaoth must follow without fail.

_Rule One: Thou shalt not be seen._

The hunter must be silent and efficient. No traces. No witnesses. 

_Rule Two: Thou shalt not doubt._

The hunter must follow the orders without questioning. Any form of disobedience is to be considered a betrayal and severely punished.

_Rule Three: Thou shalt not be bitten._

The vampire must be killed immediately for its fangs are poisonous to both body and soul. There is no release from that poison other than death.

_Rule Four: Thou shalt not become the hunted._

The vampires are the lower forms of life, endangering humanity’s future. The Holy Mission of the Church is to keep them in their place. The position of power is where the hunter shall stand at any time.

_Rule Five: Thou shalt not pity._

The vampires may try to deceive the hunter with their appearance. But they are not humans. They are mindless beasts. The wolves in sheep’s clothing.

_Rule Six: Thou shalt not speak thy name._

The hunter’s real identity must never be known. The hunter’s name, body and soul belong to Lord Yaldabaoth.

_Rule Seven: Thou shalt not walk the dark._

There is only one path a human should follow. 

The holy light of Lord Yaldabaoth that is cast upon His faithful servants warms them in a gentle embrace of life. 

Those who oppose His will shall burn to ashes in its glory.


	2. Thou Shalt (Not) Be Seen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first encounter.

_tap, tap, tap._

Crow walked the silent cobbled streets with the confidence of a man who fears nothing. And there was, in fact, not much an elite vampire hunter of The Holy Church of Yaldabaoth could fear.

_tap, tap, tap._

The tip of his cane struck a steady staccato against the stone paths, disrupting the sleepy silence of the night. Bringing peace to the hearts of the Lord’s faithful servants. Awaking fear in His enemies.

 _tap, tap_ —

Crow halted, noticing motion in the corner of his vision. He changed his grip on the cane, catching it halfway along its length. The hooked silver handle, carefully crafted head of his namesake, reflected the light casted by a nearby street lamp with a sharp glimmer.

He quickened his pace, the brim of his long black cape fluttering against his ankles. There was someone there, curled up at the very end of a narrow back-alley.

Crow made it closer and sighed. Probably a drunkard, who having stumbled out of the nearby tavern got forced to deal with the consequences of his alcohol-drenched nocturnal adventures.

With all honesty, he wanted to just turn on his heel and walk away.

But patrolling the streets at night also came with this small nuisance. Keeping the citizens safe from harm. In a way, he guessed, vomiting one’s insides out in an empty alley, in the middle of the night, could be considered a good path to harm oneself. The poor soul could choke and suffocate, or something.

He _shouldn’t_ talk. It was forbidden for the hunters, but he didn’t want to _touch_ the other person. There was no other hunter around to report on him, too.

“Excuse me, Sir, is everything—” he started, voice echoing against the mask covering his face. 

The man flinched and turned around. A reaction way too fast for a drunkard, as Crow noticed. His body moved by itself. The hand gripping the cane darted up in a swift swing betraying years of training, another ready to pull out a blade hidden inside.

The man he mistook for a drunkard looked at him with round, frightful eyes. The messy curls of hair contrasted against unhealthily pale skin and smears of dark blood around the lips. A single trickle of red fluid ran down his chin, hung there for a moment, then broke away, dripping to the ground.

That’s when Crow noticed the body, sprawled on the ground behind the man like an abandoned toy.

 _A vampire_.

His instincts howled in alarm, but his body was even faster – he already darted forward, a thin blade torn from the inside of his cane pointing at the monster.

He should have noticed sooner. He shouldn’t have let the vampire see him. He broke the first rule.

The vampire dodged the strike and rolled to the side in a swift motion.

Since Crow broke the first rule, he had only one option left. 

Making sure no one ever learnt about it. 

He stabbed, aiming straight at the vampire's left eye. The monster dodged again and held its hand up to attack.

“Wait!,” it called out. “You can’t save him!”

Was it going to beg for its life? 

No. 

The red mist of rage covered Crow’s vision. This beast was _mocking_ him, boasting about killing a human. Mocked Crow for getting there too late. 

Did it think itself victorious? If so, he just had to show it how deeply mistaken it was.

He lunged himself forward, using the additional force of the momentum to knock the vampire to the ground. The body under him hit the pavement without resistance, surprisingly soft and _human_ against his touch. Straddling the vampire, Crow raised his blade and aimed its silver tip at the opponent's throat to—

Crow’s hand paused before the blade could pierce the pale skin. Suddenly, like if it got held back by some mysterious force.

The vampire’s eyes of an unnatural color stared deeply into his own, even despite the protection of Crow’s mask. Was the monster casting a spell on him? 

If so, it was bad. 

Really, _really_ bad. 

Was that the reason why the vampire hunters were forbidden to come in close encounters with the beasts?

Looking into its eyes, Crow was nothing but enchanted. 

Unable to move. 

Unable to think. 

Stripped off free will, he could only sink deeper and deeper into the gaze of its shining yellow irises. Dreadful. Alluring.

“Please,” the vampire spoke and the movement of its throat connected the pale skin with Crow’s blade for a brief second. A thin trickle of blood ran down the side of its neck, fading into the folds of its coat’s collar.

Crow felt his hand tremble as he tried to force the blade through the monster’s throat. His mind didn’t quite _catch_ it before, but why— why was it speaking _human language_?

Suddenly, something flashed in the vampire’s eyes and the next second Crow found himself flying backwards to the ground. His back hit the cobblestone heavily, a grunt of pain escaping his lips. 

He sprang back to his feet immediately to meet the opponent in a fight— but the alley before him was empty. 

Crow’s eyes darted left and right. 

Behind him? 

No. 

Above him? 

No. 

The vampire had vanished without a trace. 

Crow gripped the cane tighter, breaking it in half inside his mind. 

His back ached from the collision with the ground. It was going to bruise.

He habitually checked the fasteners holding the mask in place but they seemed alright. His face hasn’t been seen. 

The silencer on his neck, the protector against the monsters’ bites given to every vampire hunter, felt slightly more uncomfortable around his throat than usual. Since it’s other purpose was to remind him to stay mute at all times, the sensation must have been the pang of guilt.

Crow took one awkwardly shaky step towards the body abandoned on the ground, then another. 

He was trembling with rage. No one has ever _dared_ to make such a fool out of him. No one has ever tricked him like this in a fight. 

In his training days, he was undefeated. The greatest talent in decades, they called him. Ever since the day he put on the hunter’s mask for the very first time as an apprentice, he has not yet been sent flying to the ground like this. Not to this day. 

He joined the two parts of the cane back into one with a loud _clatter_ and bent down next to the lifeless body. 

The man was dead. 

Crow was too late, and failed in his duty. 

_No one can know_ , a quiet voice whispered inside his mind. _If the Church finds out, they will punish you_.

Crow gripped the dead man’s overcoat on a whim, like he wanted to shake him back into life. 

Did he know why the vampire targeted him? Did it also immobilize him with its glowing glare?

He needed answers. But the dead tell no tales. 

_It’s better this way._

He let go with a resigned sigh, ready to leave. If he didn’t get out of here soon, if someone found out he had been around when the vampire attacked, his spotless reputation would crumble. 

That, he couldn’t afford. 

He took one last glance at the body. His earlier rough handling of it left the collar of the man's shirt open, showing the two bite marks on his neck. One on it’s left side, one on the right. 

Crow furrowed his brows at the sight, something in the placement of the marks not quite making sense. 

He had no time to worry about it, however, so he just commited the sight to his memory for the meantime. 

The echo of his steps didn’t ring in the alley this time. 

_The hunter must be silent and efficient._

_No traces._

_No witnesses._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, it finally began! 
> 
> I really do hope you guys will enjoy this story, I'm getting a bit nervous since so many of you expressed interest over it TwT  
> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments!
> 
> Next update under 24 hours ^^
> 
> link to the artwork on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Poichanchan/status/1320510462673489920?s=20)  
> 


	3. Thou Shalt (Not) Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet again.

There was one secret Crow held buried deep inside his heart. He was never a faithful servant of the Lord. 

He tried. 

When he was first taken to the Church - an abandoned, starved orphan - he swore he will be forever grateful. He dedicated himself to the teachings of the Holy Church, absorbing the smallest bits of knowledge like if it wasn’t only his body that desperately needed proper nurturing. 

When he got of age to be taken in as an apprentice, was given a mask and a new name, he thought his mind would finally be made at peace. It never happened. Nothing was enough to satisfy his hunger, neither harsh physical training nor even harsher devotions.

In his prayers, Crow had always asked the same things. 

Why did he survive when his mother didn’t? Why did fate bring him to the Holy Church? What was the grand plan behind it, what purpose was his life going to serve?

Lord Yaldabaoth never answered his questions.

It seemed like killing vampires was all there was to it.

Yaldabaoth was a beautiful, colossal creature, residing within the central chamber of the main church. 

His presence alone suppressed and crushed the existence of other gods and religions, if they have even ever existed in the first place.

“We are so fortunate,” the faithful scholars taught, “to be able to witness our Lord’s manifestation.” 

“It’s such a blessing,” they said, ecstatic, “to be able to hear his voice.”

“Imagine how fragile your faith would be,” they whispered, “if God was only a word in the dictionary.”

Crow witnessed Lord Yaldabaoth’s manifestation in the mortal realm. 

He listened to his transcendent voice on many occasions. 

He felt, however, that if the god was only a concept, he would have an easier time believing in him. After all, if the god he couldn’t see or hear didn’t answer, it wouldn’t be such a strange thing. 

“Crow,” the faithful scholar called out to him. He refocused his attention on the present. 

He nodded to let the scholar know he was listening. 

“The number of the murders has been increasing night by night.” He was informed. “The people have been addressing the murderer as the Double-Fanged Demon, and the Pope and Council of the Faithful decided to do the same. There is no doubt it's a vampire's doing. It will no longer be tolerated. It must be hunted down so stay alert.”

A month has passed since Crow’s encounter with that one beast. He didn’t have a chance to fight it again, but sometimes he _felt_ he was being watched. There were no flashes of glowing, yellow eyes, no stench of blood. Just the presence, an occasional shadow sneaking across the wall, a swirl in the fog at dawn.

And yet, somehow Crow _knew_ it was that one. The same vampire that humiliated him beyond comprehension during their last encounter.

He gritted his teeth beneath the mask and nodded again at the scholar, then excused himself with a shallow bow.

Now that the vampire brought the Holy Church’s attention upon itself, Crow had only one thing to do. Take revenge. Slaughter the beast. Become a hero.

Was it finally it? The long awaited moment, fate knocking at his door to bring him the sense of accomplishment?

_Kill the monster first. Then celebrate._

Crow eased the wild curve of his lips into a relaxed line. No one could see his face under the mask, but he knew his body language could react to the change in expression involuntarily. It was better to blend in with the crowd.

His patrol was going undisturbed yet again, another night in a row. 

He wasn’t satisfied. He could feel the prickling thirst for revenge crawl under his skin like a parasite. He craved bloodshed. 

A sudden motion at the edge of the circle of light cast by the street lamp sent a pleasant jolt up his spine. There it was.

He threw himself forward in a dart, his cape fluttering wildly behind him, tailored to not disturb the chase.

The vampire was quick on its feet, knowledgeable about the area. It seemed to be leading him somewhere, but Crow didn’t care about traps. If he knew it was one, it wouldn’t work.

The shadow stopped in the alley that seemed vaguely familiar, before Crow realized. It was the same place they first met in.

_The perpetrator always comes back to the crime scene, doesn’t he?_

Crow bared his teeth under the mask, the madness he felt boiling in his gut and couldn’t shut out for the past month cracking up his face in a vicious smile.

His prey was before him. 

He was imagining this moment every day, while keeping his emotions in check. Now that he finally had the chance to let them out, the buzz of blood in his veins and thumps of quickened heartbeats almost deafened him. 

He was going to tear the monster apart. Rip its arms away, then its legs, then its hair, his— _its_ eyes. The disgusting, gleaming spots of bright yellow. The eyes that mocked him, challenged him, _violated him_ —

“Please,” the monster spoke, and Crow somehow forgot this detail about it. The beast he murdered every night in his dreams had no voice, as all previous ones. “Please, I just want to—“

Crow lunged forward, swinging the blade he yanked out of the cane. He had ~~orders to follow~~ _revenge to fulfill_.

He wished the monster had just shut up and made it a bit easier for him.

The vampire dodged to the side, holding no weapon of its own.

It didn’t matter. Crow has been trained for this, he knew exactly what to avoid.

 _You didn’t know about the eyes_ , the traitorous voice whispered, _you had no idea_.

He let the frustrated groan leave his lips as he swinged again, pleading for the burning rage inside him to give him enough strength to crush the enemy to dust.

The vampire dodged again, with unnerving _ease_ . He was light on his feet, he— _it_ looked like it was _dancing_ around Crow. Like his years of training were nothing. Like _he_ was nothing.

“You little—” Crow seethed and slashed at the monster again, aimlessly, driven by pure desperation.

_That’s all you can do? The elite vampire hunter?_

He almost _tripped_ over his own legs in the next moment, when the vampire’s face scrunched up in a frown and this time it didn’t move, as if waiting for the attack to lay a bloody line across its chest. 

Then, suddenly, it _moved_ but at the same time it _didn't_ and a second later Crow’s wrists were being held in a cold iron grip.

The monster squeezed harder, pressing a pained whimper out of Crow’s lungs. His fingers relaxed involuntarily under the pressure and the bladed cane dropped to the ground with a loud _clank_. Crow gritted his teeth in rage and humiliation. His brain was working so fast, trying to come up with a way to escape, that he wasn't quite able to catch his own thoughts.

A frustrated scream escaped his throat.

_It’s over._

_So this is how your fate was woven into the matter of this world._

Crow felt the last bits of strength leave his body as he dropped to his knees in defeat—

When someone’s hands caught him by the arms and held him upright. The pressure from his wrists was gone, but he barely noticed it.

“Please,” he could hear the voice right in front of him, so he turned his face away in a childish gesture of avoidance. “I just want to talk.”

Then, he realized something.

His eyes darted back to the face of the creature in front of him. The yellow irises. There was no trace of them. What looked at him were calm, big eyes of stormy grey, half-hidden behind the curtain of eyelashes.

“Who are you?” The creature asked in a young man’s voice. Crow felt like his ears had been suddenly unplugged. Was the vampire's voice so sweet and deep all this time?

He didn’t answer. The vampire hunters only answered before Lord Yaldabaoth. 

...the monster before him has probably spoken more of the human language than him.

“Please, I _have_ to know. Do you know who the Double-Fanged Demon is?” the monster pressured, and Crow stiffened in surprise.

Why… did the Double-Fanged Demon itself ask _him_ about its own identity?

“You won’t deceive me,” he whispered against his mask, “I know it’s you. I saw you that night.”

The other’s face went still.

“I didn’t do it,” he— _it_ answered. Its face twisted in disappointment. “So you don’t know either.”

Crow pursed his lips together. Why was the vampire asking him this? Was it... because it really wasn’t a perpetrator? Could it be?

The creature let go of his arms and Crow wobbled backwards, stripped of support. He watched in silence as it sighed heavily, pushing its hair back from its face in irritation.

“The Church is useless as always. But what did I expect.” It threw him a pointed glance. “I don’t know what I was thinking. You seemed… different from the rest of them.” The last sentence was barely a whisper, muttered under the creature's breath, but Crow’s hearing was exquisite. 

“What do you mean?” he asked against his better judgement. 

He was _disobeying orders again_. Why was he even talking to the vampire? He should just kill it. 

But all of his rage from before disappeared, blown out like a flame off the match. What was left was curiosity. 

In the dimmed light of the street lamps, outside the fervor of the fight, without it’s glowing eyes and blood smeared on its face, the creature looked perfectly... human. Crow didn’t see many humans from this close of a distance (outside of fights) since he was little. 

Why did the teachings of the Holy Church not mention it? Why have the other vampires he killed before looked… how did they look again? 

He furrowed his brows. That part of his memories was all hazy, faceless silhouettes with pointed fangs. Why was this one different?

“You…” the creature looked at him, puzzled. “You spared me, back then. I didn’t expect mercy from the hunter.”

Crow looked at him, stunned. “What?”

“Huh?” the vampire shuffled on its feet. “Did I say something wrong?” It rubbed the back of its neck sheepishly.

“I didn’t _spare_ you,” Crow coughed up in disbelief. “You— you cast a spell on me!”

Vampire’s eyes went round in astonishment. “I did _what_?”

“Your eyes, they were… yellow and…”

“Oh,” the creature brought a hand up to its face, as if it wanted to brush its fingers against its eyes. It didn’t, though, and its hand fell back down to its side. “I can’t _cast spells_. I— the eyes… It happens when we come in contact with blood.”

Crow stiffened. So it admitted to having drank the man’s blood. He searched for his cane with his eyes but it was too far away and the vampire stood between him and the weapon. He took a fighting stance reserved for close-combat fights.

Vampire flustered visibly. “No, no, wait, please wait, I— I can explain.”

“You’ve killed that man,” Crow stated. But something about the vampire’s gaze made him hold back from attacking it immediately.

“I didn’t. I was trying to help him,” the creature averted its gaze. It was the first time it didn’t look Crow straight into the eyes. What did it mean? Was it lying? Or was it something else?

“By sucking him dry out of blood?” Crow taunted, but the other didn’t take the bait.

“I— you don’t need to know. Thanks for not killing me.” It turned on its heel to leave.

“Wait!” Crow called out before he could even think it through. What happened to explaining, suddenly? “What… what does it mean? Who is the murderer?” 

The words tasted weird on his tongue and his throat was starting to ache from the strain of talking so much after such a long time. The silencer added to it, the uncomfortable reminder he should have _never_ talked. But he needed answers. And, ironically, this creature seemed to be the only one who was willing to provide him with some.

The vampire turned it’s— _his_ head around, measuring him with a contemplating gaze of bright gray eyes.

“I think we are looking for the same prey, hunter,” it said. “I’m sure our paths will cross again.”

It threw something his way and Crow instinctively caught it. It was his cane, back in one piece. He didn’t even notice when the vampire picked it up.

He looked back after him, but his silhouette had become one with the shadows already. 

Crow let him get away yet again. 

He will have to, once more, pretend that his patrol was uneventful. 

But in his heart, he _didn’t_ want the Church to know about his encounter with the vampire. 

It felt like… the Council was hiding something. 

He was starting to doubt.

  
  


_ The hunter must follow orders without questioning.  _

_ Any form of disobedience is to be considered a betrayal and will be severely punished. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters are going to be longer and longer, don't be surprised, it's apparently a thing for me.
> 
> Crow breaks the second rule wohooo! Bad! Boy!
> 
> Next update under 24 hours!
> 
> link to the artwork on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Poichanchan/status/1320806814020177922?s=20)  
> 


	4. Thou Shalt (Not) Be Bitten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ups and downs.

The night patrols, from that point on, became a sort of game between them. For the first time Crow started feeling he had a _purpose_ . Find the murderer. The _real_ murderer, because something, maybe his instincts, kept telling him that this vampire wasn’t one.

He didn’t plan further, not yet. There was nothing he could really think of to do _after_ it. Probably the same thing. And then again and again. But for some reason, unexplainable even to him, it didn’t sound that bad. 

Every night was a race, a mad sprint with the three of them as participants. Crow. A Double-Fanged Demon. A vampire. 

The vampire’s name was Ren. He didn’t tell Crow more than that, but he didn’t need to either. Not that Crow was curious.

_Maybe a little?_

He shook his head to shoo away the familiar tug inside his mind and refocused on the scene before him. The blood marks on the pavement and walls gave him some clues to what happened here the night before. He was off-duty then, a rare privilege, and he spent it in the library, going through the books on demons and vampires. 

He didn’t find anything useful. The rough sketches on the book’s pages showed monstrous, ugly creatures with twisted limbs. Long, pointed fangs, dry skin stretched tight against the starved, dark bodies. They looked like this in his memories, too. But the vampire he became… acquaintanced with, was so different. Why?

“Crow?” a gentle voice murmured into his ear.

He blinked, then noticed Ren at his side. He wasn’t there just a few seconds ago.

He really looked nothing like them. He was tall, of delicate and harmonious, even handsome features. His nails weren’t long and sharp, his ears weren’t pointed. 

“Hm?” Ren hummed the question, noticing Crow’s gaze lingering on him. “Something wrong?”

There was a lot wrong, since the very first time they met. The dissonance between his knowledge, the teachings, his _memories_ and the way Ren _was_. He neither looked or behaved differently than any humans Crow saw before. 

He liked to wear plain shirts, trousers with suspenders and the funny flat hat he called a beret. He was intelligent and witty, observant, pleasant to have around. It seemed he has been following the trace of Double-Fanged Demon for a while now, though he never spoke about it too much. 

They usually met somewhere around the town, Ren tracking Crow down with unsettling precision. Sometimes they patrolled - because he was convinced that’s what the vampire was doing on his own accord too - the area together, other times separately, like today, only to meet up again.

Crow shook his head and took a few steps closer to where the body must have been laying before, abandoned by the killer. He regretted not being able to take a look at it here, on the scene. But if it looked the same as all previous ones, he could get an idea.

“Hm, it’s not like I would be happy to see another victim, but it feels like getting to see the scene fresh could help a lot,” Ren commented conversationally. His tone didn’t suit the place and situation at all. 

But Crow was slowly getting used to his nonchalance. It was like nothing in the world, however wicked, could bother him.

“You’ve seen the scene _fresh_ before. You’ve made it before the victim died, even,” Crow pointed out.

“Yes, of course.” Ren nodded. “The thing is. With only one small experience like this, I don’t get the full picture. I don’t get _any_ picture, in fact.”

“What do you suggest we do, then?” Crow turned around to look at him. 

“Oh, aren’t _you_ the expert in the matter? Don’t you learn some vampire hunting techniques there?” the vampire asked with a bit of ironic edge.

But he had a point. Crow _knew_ many ways to hunt down a vampire. The problem was—

“They aren’t working,” he finished his thought out loud, furrowing his brows behind the mask.

“You are _that_ incompetent?” Ren mocked but also took a step away from Crow. 

He chose to ignore the remark. “It’s strange. Everything I tried before didn’t work, even if it should have.”

“Maybe he knows the hunters’ methods too and learned to avoid them,” Ren mused. “It wouldn’t be that shocking. Our lives are long and full of boredom. Maybe he was a vampire hunter himself before he got transformed.” 

Crow did a double take. “What? Impossible. How could a hunter—”

“There, there, no need for the nerves. I’m sure it's not that strange for the hunters to come to doubt that funky _god_ of yours. I mean, you aren’t much different, are you?”

The vampire’s words stunned him into silence. 

_He knows. He found out your deepest secret._

“How do you know?” Crow dared to ask, his breathing shallow, echoing against the thin metal of the mask in short gasps for air. 

“I mean, you spared me that time, and you are doubting the—”

“I DIDN’T SPARE YOU!” Crow burst out, surprising even himself. He didn’t. He didn’t, right?

_You did._

“You did,” Ren echoed the words of the voice from his mind. His tone was strangely soft, almost _caring_. “I told you before, I have no power like this. It was your own good heart that stopped you from finishing the blow, Crow.”

Crow listened, disbelieving, then turned on his heel in anger. It… wasn’t true.

_Really?_

He set off, quickening his pace with each step, until breaking into the light sprint, leaving the annoying vampire behind. What was he running from? Ren? Truth?

_Yourself?_

“Shut the fuck up,” he seethed, wishing he could just tear the voice out of his head. 

He made it to the neighboring district, the one he would normally patrol the next day. He shouldn’t impose on another hunter’s night duty, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care right now.

Mercy? Good heart? 

He didn’t have these. 

He was just a tool in the god’s hand. 

Tools don’t think. Don’t feel. 

The tip of his cane struck the familiar rhythm. 

_tap, tap, tap_

He liked that sound, it’s steadiness, repeatable tone.

_tap, tap, tap_

He liked how confident it made him become.

_tap, tapTAPtap_

Crow halted, hearing the additional sound play off in the distance. He wondered for a moment if he should go and check the source of the noise. It wasn’t his territory to patrol. It would be bad if he encountered another hunter. 

_But what if the hunter isn’t there and the murderer attacked again?_

Crow clicked his tongue and hurried towards the source of the sound. 

The streets were usually very quiet at night but at this time the soft murmur of the talks and people enjoying their nocturnal lives should still carry in the wind. It was strangely quiet today though, the kind of silence that feels a bit too empty to be comfortable.

Crow moved soundlessly and readied his cane sword, just in case. When he reached where there seemed to be the source of the noise, he stopped, confused, almost slipping on the wet stone under his feet. 

Wet?

He looked down to see the blood he just stepped into. The figure laying on the ground was dressed in the hunter’s garb. The side of the lion-face shaped mask was visible. There was no one else around. 

Crow gritted his teeth as he fixed the gloves on his hands, ready to drop to one knee and examine the body when—

The body _moved_.

And then, the darkness.

******

Crow came to with a throbbing ache at the back of his skull. 

He grunted with pain and tried to raise his head - eyes still too blurry, ringing inside his skull too loud to perceive things with its usual clarity. He realized he couldn’t move and suddenly other sensations started flowing to him, like water released from a dam.

He was being held in a warm embrace of strong arms. 

Someone’s careful, comfortable hand was tucked under his head, keeping it in one place. 

Burning, slightly wet lips were pressing to the skin over his collarbone, tugging at it in a nip that sent a shiver down his spine. 

It tore through his body with the jolt of unexpected pleasure radiating from the spot. It heated up his body like a gentle tide washing over him. 

He never felt so _safe_ before. All of his senses felt dull, calm and _pliant_ . He wanted _more_. He wanted to stop thinking, to simply melt into the touch.

Crow’s body twisted, seeking more of that sensation. He felt detached, like if he was standing next to it, only observing its wanton doings. And yet he felt it when some strange _heat_ bloomed inside his chest and sank down to his stomach. 

All of the muscles in his body shrank and trembled and _burned_. 

He felt his toes curling up underneath the soft leather of the shoes, felt his— _his_ legs bending at the knees, chest rising up to _squeeze_ into the embrace, into the body right next to him.

The lips detached from his shoulder suddenly. The spot where they have been connected until now was left vulnerable and _cold_ and _alone_.

Crow tried to move his head with _his own will_ again and this time he found the strength to. It was like the circuits in his body connected with his consciousness again. He cocked it to the side, not clearly aware why he _needed to_ , but pushed by the strong desire to take a look at the face of the person embracing him.

The soft, deep yellow glow of the eyes belonging to someone he vaguely recognized, returned his gaze.

It was mesmerizing, in a sort of way that made him shiver. It felt like facing a stronger predator without a proper weapon. 

Crow didn’t recognize the emotion that twirled inside his body as fear, though. 

He took a deep, steady breath, devouring the image of the beautiful, pale face in front of him with his eyes and mind and soul. 

He wanted to _feel_ the flutter of the thick dark eyelashes against his cheeks. The softness of the dark curly locks entangled between his bare fingers. 

He wanted to be stared down, unwaveringly, by those shining yellow eyes as he _ripped off_ the mask from his face, casted it away like meaningless garbage. He wanted to take off the silencer, feel these lips again, on his neck this time.

He wanted these eyes to see _him_ . Not _Crow_ , not _vampire hunter_ , not his mask, his clothes, his skin.

He wanted to bare his everything to them, starting from his real face, ending with his very soul.

“It will pass soon, Crow,” Ren whispered to him. He looked calm and collected, but his breathing was a bit ragged. “It will pass, please hang on a little more.”

Crow could hear his words but didn’t _understand_ them. 

What was going to pass soon? 

He found himself thinking he didn’t care, actually. 

He forced his left hand up with a bit too much effort for it to be considered _normal_. 

But he didn’t care about that either. 

He just wanted to touch the soft lips of the man looking down at him. Brush his fingers against them. 

His hand made it to another’s face and Ren inhaled sharply under the touch, his upper body shuddering in a quick spasm.

“Don’t, don’t do that,” he murmured between the short, spasmodic breaths, “you don’t want this, it’s not you, don’t—” 

Ren was talking but it didn’t sound convincing at all, actions contradicting his words as he leaned in to the touch heavily.

“Don’t—,” the vampire breathed against Crow’s palm but as his lips separated for a moment, the next his teeth nibbled at Crow’s finger hidden beneath the leather glove. 

Then he bit at the fabric and slowly pulled the glow off his hand, finger by finger. It dropped somewhere but it didn’t matter. What mattered was Ren’s tongue on his ungloved fingers, his hot breath on them.

Crow watched him with a strange satisfaction. 

The Ren he came to know during their night encounters was far more composed, far more _in control_. He was starting to enjoy watching him like this, falling apart under a single touch. 

It made _Crow_ feel more powerful than he ever did in his life.

He pushed his thumb deeper between Ren’s teeth and felt the other’s hand, the one entangled in Crow’s hair quiver and catch on the locks, voluntarily or not. Crow’s head was yanked backwards with the pull and the next thing he could see were the yellow eyes closing in to his face then down his at his shoulder, the flutter of Ren’s rosy lips as they split wider, showing the long, pointed _fangs_ —

Crow felt the blood rush to his brain suddenly, as if someone poured the boiling hot water on him. All of his senses sharpened suddenly and the years of training kicked in as he caught the vampire by the jaw and pushed away in one strong motion.

Ren stumbled, his hand loosening the grip on Crow’s hair and they both hit the ground, suddenly without the other body supporting their weight. 

Crow rolled to the side, eyes darting left and right in search of his cane. He found it laying on the ground a few steps away and scrambled to his feet with as much grace as his woozy state allowed him for. He almost tripped, the pounding inside his skull threatening to crack it up, limbs not quite listening to him just yet.

Was he going to die now? Was he going to turn into a vampire himself? He didn’t know which was worse.

Crow caught the cane and yanked the blade out of it, ready to stuff the traitor on it. 

Mercy? 

Even if a sparkle of it really flickered in him before, he was going to step it dead now.

“You bit me,” he choked out through the trembling gasps for air. The silencer on his neck felt tighter than ever. “You _fucking_ bit me. You _were_ the killer all this time.”

Ren didn’t answer, standing stiffly in place. 

“That’s what you fucking meant when you said I’m different, didn’t you? You thought I’m _naive_ ,” he laughed hysterically at his own stupidity. He shouldn’t have ever _imagined_ that working together is possible for them. 

Hunter and the hunted. 

Predator and prey.

The one with no heart and the one with no soul.

“I will obliterate you.” He jumped forward without further warning, seeing nothing but red and red and red and red and _Ren_. 

He stabbed and cut and slashed and stabbed again but his attacks never reached his target. 

There was something in the vampire's face he couldn’t quite decipher. 

But it wasn’t his business anymore.

“Stop your fucking tricks and _FACE ME_ !” Crow roared angrily. Ren didn’t even try to fight back. He didn’t even try to _explain_ this time. He just jumped off the attacks’ way as if he was predicting them. As if he knew where they were going to land before Crow himself did.

_Is that what you are waiting for? To be able to give him a chance?_

Waiting? He wasn’t waiting. He was genuinely trying to—

Ren moved forward suddenly, catching Crow’s wrist in a familiar gesture. This happened before. 

Crow stopped despite himself, taut and ready to

_attack?_

_listen?_

_forgive?_

“You can believe whatever you want.” Ren’s quiet voice reached his ears. “I will not stop you. Our paths won’t cross again.”

Crow was standing in the alleway for a long time after that. He didn’t move from the spot Ren had left him in. 

Not when it started to rain, a gentle, humming noise.

Not until the sky changed from indigo to light grey. 

A familiar shade of something Crow had just lost, even though it didn’t belong to him in the first place. 

  
  


_The vampire must be killed immediately for its fangs are poisonous to both body and soul._

_There is no release from that poison other than death._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm... *bangs my head on the desk* I... copy-pasted the rule 3 at both end of the previous chapter and this one, I'm such a genius xD Fixed it now.
> 
> *Coughs* the bite scene, huh, I suddenly got super embarrassed about it like a baby XD I absolutely love Poichanchan's idea for the artwork here, Ren being only a silhouette to highlight that Crow is in a bit of a blank-minded state and mostly feels not sees, SUCH A BIG BRAIN......
> 
> Next update under 24 hours!
> 
> link to the artwork on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Poichanchan/status/1321152578479181824?s=20)  
> 


	5. Thou Shalt (Not) Become the Hunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt.

Crow indulged in listening to the echo of his own steps on the marble floor. 

His slightly heeled boots dictated the rhythm of life in the empty corridor. There was only him there, passing tall stained glass windows on the left and beautiful paintings on the right. Unless the paintings counted as people too, displaying rows and rows of faces of the faithful scholars.

He was just appointed with a mission. 

Not the usual, boring night patrol, and not the plain warning or instruction to be more careful, like before. A real mission, which completion could bring him anything he ever wanted. 

_And what is it, Crow, that you have ever wanted?_

He ignored the annoying voice and took the next turn, making his way to the training hall. 

The sound of the clashing blades carried in the hallway long before the entrance came into view. Inside, around twenty apprentices trained in the art of blades. Some were carrying swords, some rapiers, other long curved daggers. 

He glanced fondly at the cane in his left hand. It was unique, like himself.

At his entrance, the apprentices stopped what they were doing and greeted him with deep bows. He wondered if were they not hunters in training, would they start whispering excitedly.

Crow’s reputation preceded him greatly among the vampire hunters. His talent was apparent during his study days already, but it didn’t stop flourishing even more after he became a full-fledged vampire hunter two years prior.

He defeated plenty of vampires before; for his young age, a marvelous achievement. His efficiency was unsurpassed. It wasn’t like there were many cases of vampires attacking people in the first place, and so in the previous years his capability kept putting others to shame.

Tracking a vampire wasn’t impossible if one knew what to look for. They usually targeted weak, lone people who lost themselves for too long into the night. They avoided sunlight and sacred grounds. That’s why the hunters patrolled the districts under the moonlight, as familiar with the dark as their prey. 

Recently Crow wondered if there was as much truth in these teachings as there was in the depictions of vampires’ physical forms. But the _truth_ was becoming a less easily graspable concept by day. 

He was bitten by a vampire and the bite ought to be poisonous. Was it going to kill him? Turn him into a monster? Was Ren really one? The wound didn’t hurt, he didn’t feel worse even as a few days passed. 

But he didn’t know what and who to trust anymore. 

He pushed these thoughts away for now and looked at the students again.

Silver was the most effective against the beasts, and so all of the weapons the hunters carried had silver blades. Every hunter mastered his chosen weapon, but the most common were still the plain swords with thin cutting edges.

The faithful instructor raised one hand before he spoke up.

“Let us conclude this part of the training,” he announced. “We have a special guest today, who agreed to join the session in order to test your current strength. Per hunter Crow’s acquiescence, you may form the groups of three to face him in a duel. I will decide the groups now and everyone is to line up in the order…”

Crow stopped listening to the instructor halfway and let his gaze wander on the familiar interior. It wasn’t long since he himself trained within these walls, not yet completely forbidden but strictly expected not to speak to anyone besides Lord Yaldabaoth.

The chamber was spacious and bright, the walls tiled with ivory marble. The high, vaulted ceiling brought to mind an image of being trapped under a huge deformed ribcage. The decorative columns recessed into the walls were carved with reliefs depicting hunting scenes. Beasts were all semi-fantastical – not seen in the land of living in hundreds of years, yet the records of them once plaguing the realm still remained.

When the faithful instructor finished assigning apprentices to the groups, Crow walked to the center of the hall.

He took a stance, holding his cane in his right hand. The placement of his feet, slight turn of the hips, straightened back, everything finding its place following his slow, deliberate motions. 

While common fights were tests of reflexes and endurance, duels were art, flashy shows of pure skill and grace.

And Crow was a top performer.

The three youngsters surrounded him carefully, their feet never fully meeting the ground, ready to jump back and forward at the fate’s call. They observed him, focusing strongly on his feet, alert to seek any hints of what Crow was about to do.

It was their first mistake.

Relying purely on his reputation as a fencing master, the apprentices subconsciously ignored the other advantages of his weapon. It wouldn’t be such a bad call, has he already drawn the blade. But he hasn’t.

The second mistake was allowing Crow to move first when their greatest advantage laid in numbers.

Crow sprang forward, twirling the cane between his fingers in a half-circle, startling the students. The two of them jumped backwards while the one he targeted stilled himself and rose up his longsword in a position to parry and defend.

Another mistake. 

Crow swung his cane upwards. Its hooked head caught the blade just inches away from the hand that was holding it. He pulled strongly to the side, twisting both the blade and another’s wrist, tearing the sword away from his opponent's palm. It dropped to the ground with a loud _clang_. 

But Crow wasn’t finished yet. Following the momentum, he let the cane twirl freely between his fingers again, closing the circle. He managed to catch the glimpse of the apprentice's eyes, widened in shock beneath his mask, before the tip of the cane crushed into his solar plexus. 

The student choked and fell down to his knees then face first to the floor. 

One down.

The other two must have realized their mistake, because this time they attacked him together, coming in from behind. Crow noted earlier what kind of weapon has each of his opponents carried, so he could easily predict their plan.

One of the students had a longsword, another a dagger. They were both a similar distance away from him, with the first one having the advantage of reach. All Crow had to do was to turn it into a _disadvantage_.

Youngsters were not nearly as silent on their feet as Ren. Not that they weren’t _trying_ to but they would simply stand no chance against him.

_You don’t either_.

Crow inhaled and spun around, shifting his staff from right hand to left, and easily knocked the sword swinging his way aside as if it was a child's toy, not a piece of iron. 

The other student, the one attacking from the other flank with the dagger, missed his mark and stumbled, meeting only air on his blade’s way, not resistance. Crow couldn’t _see_ it happening but the sight wasn’t the only sense put to use in the fights. His ears, even his nose - everything could serve as a tool.

He changed the grip on the handle and while adjusting his position into a proper lunge he stabbed with the tip of the cane, hitting the opponent’s arm precisely in the point where the three biggest muscles connected.

The student cried out in pain but still didn’t let go of his weapon. Commendable but of no account.

Crow swiftly slipped under the next sloppy slash and - making use of his lowered position - swinged at the opponent's legs, hitting from behind, in the back of his knees. It may have been a bit of a dirty trick, but the fights outside of the training hall were rarely clean. And he came here to teach, aside from performing.

The apprentice’s legs gave up and he fell down to his knees. Crow needed his opponent on the ground, however. 

He spinned the cane between his fingers, allowing the head to catch into the other’s collar from the bottom then pulled it strongly up and slammed down, throwing the youngster to the ground.

Two down.

The third opponent stood still, petrified with fear, holding the dagger in two trembling hands. Crow couldn’t really blame him. After seeing his fellow apprentices taken down in under two minutes he had the right to feel scared.

_Does he? Can he become a real hunter like this?_

Crow tossed the cane back to his right hand and took a proper stance suitable for fencing, with the left elbow raised up. A promise of something more familiar and predictable. 

He made a lunge, aiming straight at the other’s chest but turned it into a feint in the last second. The student didn’t even have the time to blink and now he had the tip of Crow’s cane pressed to his windpipe, threatening to crush it.

The youngster was as good as defeated but Crow needed him on the ground.

_Do you? Why?_

His eyes met the student’s frightened gaze. His irises were blue but for a moment they looked gray to him. 

_“Please, I just want to talk.”_

Crow gritted his teeth.

Liar.

Traitor.

Naive.

He lowered the cane.

Turned on his heel.

Left the training hall.

The faithful servant watched him go with the narrowed eyes.

*****

He _knew_ where to ~~find~~ hunt down Ren. 

Throughout the month they spent trying to outwit each other as rivals, there were also instances when a thread of understanding tugged between them, entangling the fragments of their thoughts and souls together. 

Crow let his legs carry him to the riverside, the walk a strange experience in many ways. It was still quite early in the evening, so a lot of people were still hanging around in the streets. 

It was definitely not something Crow was used to. He spent most of his youth and earliest adult years in training. As a full-fledged hunter, his work tied him to the deep of the night. It’s when the monsters crawled out of the shadows, safe from Lord Yaldabaoth’s light.

The humans surrounding him were lively and talkative but went respectful and silent when he passed, bowing deeply to the elite warrior of their god.

He wondered how many of them were in fact vampires.

How many of them really _believed_.

The hustle and bustle only ever resumed when he was a good few buildings away. It made him realize he didn’t really belong here, even though he was a human just like them.

He found him sitting on the bench on the riverside boulevards, the lone figure slumped slightly forward, observing the water with a melancholy-filled gaze. 

Ren was wearing a casual outfit - plain shirt and necktie under a simple vest, a beret partially hiding his unruly curls. He looked like a normal person, taking a break between finishing work and heading home.

Crow stopped a few paces away and observed, thinking of what to do next. Even though this area was more deserted, still a few pedestrians appeared from time to time, passing by. Engaging in the fight right there wasn’t the best idea. It could certainly draw too much unwanted attention and even bring harm to the innocent.

Crow watched him, and watched, the thoughts that brought him here in the first place - the fear of being infected, the rage of being betrayed - dissipating somewhere, maybe taken from him along by the occasionally passing wind. 

Only when the last lights of the sunset disappeared completely, the last man coming home passed by him, he finally moved. 

He was silent like a fog creeping into town just before the dawn, but Ren still somehow noticed his presence just before Crow could place a gloved hand on his arm.

The plan was simple.

_Is it really?_

Ren turned around, his calm face transforming into honest surprise. His grey eyes went wide and Crow noticed something in them he didn’t quite expect. 

Ren looked at him… hopefully. Almost pleadingly.

_Is it really that simple?_

Something inside Crow’s chest twisted and turned.

_Is it?_

He looked away.

“Crow?” Ren stood up and circled the bench to stand right before him. “You… You‘ve found me.” Even his voice was hopeful.

Crow swallowed, his throat suddenly tight under the silencer. Or was it another way around. It really felt wrapped more closely around his neck than he remembered it to be.

“I’ve hunted you down,” he answered truthfully. 

The vortex of emotions in his chest started clouding his mind too. It felt like if he won’t stick to the simple truths now, he will lose himself in it.

_Who exactly is_ **_yourself_ ** _, Crow?_

_The human?_

_The hunter?_

_The monster fueled by hubris and rage?_

Ren extended his hand to him, slowly and carefully, as if he wanted to put it on his shoulder.

_Why are you just standing there, Crow?_

_What are you waiting for?_

_Were you always so useless, so pathetic?_

“Crow, are you alright?” Ren murmured with concern and only then Crow realized the state he himself was in.

His breathing was shallow, disturbed, his palms were starting to shake uncontrollably. Was that it? The vampire’s bite turning him mad, after all?

“Crow—” Ren’s hand touched his arm and an electric current ran through his body.

It was the work of pure instinct. 

The cane spinned between his fingers faster than the eye could see. 

His thumb found the switch on the handle and pressed.

The hidden blade sprang from the cane’s tip, a sharp extension of its length, a countermeasure in case he didn’t have enough time to just pull the main blade out.

For a split second between the moment it was still in the air, aiming for Ren’s heart and the moment it sunk into it, Crow wished strongly that piercing the vampire's skin would fill the void in his own heart.

The blade never reached its goal.

Ren dodged swiftly, judging from his face the reflex so deeply rooted it surprised even him. But then he tripped. His hand, still grasping Crow’s arm, pulled on him and they both landed on the cobbled ground, the vampire on his back and the hunter on top of him.

He didn’t waste time.

“Am I,” Crow choked out between the ragged breaths, “Am I going to turn into a vampire now?” He pressed the tip of the blade to Ren’s throat, drawing blood. 

Ren looked up at him with steel composure, so different from Crow’s disheveled and anxious state. He didn’t answer.

“Tell me!” Crow yelled demandingly, his hand starting to shake even more, already barely restrained emotions threatening to overwhelm him completely.

Ren took his hand up to his neck and grabbed the blade then _pulled it to the side_ , the trickles of blood coloring his palm and the silver edges in deep red.

Crow’s fingers twitched and the cane fell out of his hand, hitting the ground like an abandoned toy. 

He didn’t know why he let it go. 

He couldn’t understand himself anymore.

“Crow,” Ren murmured and Crow felt his breath catch in his throat at the sound of his name spoken by those traitorous lips, “that’s not what the vampires’ powers do,” he said and before Crow even got the chance to call him a liar, the vampire took his own palm to his mouth and bit down into bleeding flesh.

Crow’s eyes went wide with shock at the scene. He watched as Ren’s eyes lit up, first dimly, then brighter, into the familiar yellow glow. 

His gaze never left Crow’s face, not even for a second.

The silence of the night, undisturbed by anything, felt like an overpowering void, pressing out the disrupted breaths from inside Crow’s chest and taking them for itself. Or maybe every single one of his senses focused on Ren so strongly everything else ceased to matter.

When the vampire finally took his palm away from between his fangs, in slow, deliberate motion, and showed it to Crow, the bleeding on it stopped completely. The two shallow holes closed as he watched. The traces of blood remained, but it was the only proof of Ren being injured just a few seconds earlier.

“You healed yourself,” Crow breathed out more than spoke, the disbelief and realization crushing down on him all at once. 

He took his hand up to his shoulder, where Ren bit him just a few days prior. The shallow bite mark he saw in the mirror before has healed already. 

But _why_ was it shallow and healed fast? 

Why were there _two_ bite marks on the first victim’s neck? 

Why was there none at all on Ren’s palm? 

“You have the _healing powers_.”

_The vampires are the lower forms of life, endangering humanity’s future._

_The Holy Mission of the Church is to keep them in their place._

_The position of power is where the hunter shall stand at any time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small cliff to not dump all revelations at you at once and CROW BEING COOL wohoo! From this point on you shall slowly get some explanations.
> 
> This chapter was around... 2.5k. The next one is over 4k xD It... just happened.  
> The comments....... guys.... I... I'm so happy to read them, I'm sorry if I didn't answer yours - I indulge myself in reading them and I get so happy but I feel like I could accidentally spoil something so I don't answer all of them TwT It's so exciting though, to read your theories and impressions, I'm really touched that my ideas get through and you take them, think about them, theorize about what will happen next. I hope you won't get dissapointed!
> 
> Crow was still a bit blinded by the teachings until now, I hope you forgive him the moments of weaknesses and struggle, not being able to decide what really is the truth gshjdfs. He is not entirely vulnerable, he has a strong spirit, but he is still human, he never had to deal with something like this before so he is just so, so confused. But he isn't alone anymore, heh ;)
> 
> Next chapter update in a bit more than 24 hours because today was earlier than usual due to some irl stuff!  
> Thank you again for reading and the comments, I'm so blessed by having you guys as readers TwT <3
> 
> link to the artwork by Poichanchan on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Poichanchan/status/1321457761260101634?s=20)  
> 


	6. Thou Shalt (Not) Pity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The unmasking.

“Are you surprised?” Ren asked and shifted slightly under Crow. 

The hunter quickly got up on his feet and moved aside to give him more space. When the vampire scrambled up to his feet, he stretched his neck trying to take a look at his back as he dusted off the clothes.

They were both silent for a minute before Crow realized he should probably answer the question.

“The Church doesn’t teach about it,” he said. But it was only a part of the truth. Church didn’t teach _anything_ he had learned about the vampires in the last two months. 

“The Church… It wouldn’t be really profitable for it to do so.” Ren finished dusting off his pants and looked at him again, crossing his arms over his chest. He leaned against the bench’s backrest. “What do you think would happen if the people learned the truth?”

Crow stayed silent for a moment. He didn’t have an answer ready. He has never thought about it before, after all. 

He was about to open his mouth and say _something_ but Ren beat him to it.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly. “Let me change the question. How do _you_ feel after learning the truth?”

Crow looked at Ren, the yellow light dimming in the vampire’s eyes. 

How did he feel about it?

_Confused?_

_Betrayed?_

_Empty._

When he thought of it that way, it didn’t seem like a big revelation in his life. And maybe that fact in itself should be a hint.

“The Church is deceiving everyone.” He brought his hand up to his neck, resting it on the silencer. “And it makes sure no one who learnt the truth shall speak about it.”

Ren watched him for a moment with his head tilted to the side, then pushed himself off the bench’s backrest. 

He closed in towards him, _too close_ but Crow couldn’t really find an excuse to take a step back, so he stood firmly in place, listening to his own breaths brushing against the metal of the mask.

He could feel a strange tension building up between them. 

Not necessarily an _unpleasant_ one, if he thought about it, but he brushed it off. 

It was probably the weight of a challenge Ren was casting his way, in an attempt to confirm Crow’s conviction. To see if he would waver. 

But Crow was good with standing against pressure. Even though his heart was starting to beat faster, his mind was still in control. 

Not unlike that time, when… 

He turned his face away, almost hitting Ren with his mask’s beak. He felt the pulse on his neck under the silencer - rapid, warm thumps against his skin, tingling pleasantly at the memory of Ren’s lips pressed against his skin.

“We should change the place,” Ren murmured, close to his ear, and Crow realized suddenly that he must have shut his eyes at one point to let his other senses sharpen. 

His eyelids flew open instantly and, probably for the first time ever, he was happy to be wearing a mask. 

Ren tugged at his sleeve lightly and made his way towards more developed parts of the city, leaving Crow no other choice but to follow.

They walked in silence, two creatures of the night - the hunter and the hunted. 

Ren was guiding him through a maze of narrow alleys, always choosing the paths that made them melt into one with the darkness. 

At first Crow didn’t really understand the purpose behind it - was Ren trying to confuse him, make him feel lost? It wouldn’t work anyways, this part of the city was his to patrol usually. He knew it better than his shoe soles. 

Then he realized, frowning at his own failure in noticing earlier. 

They were being followed. And by someone skilled in the craft, on top of that. 

After a few more minutes of wandering, Ren suddenly stopped and gestured at the nearest building. He started to climb his way up, finding the footing on the collapsed or broken bricks with surprising ease. 

Bouldering, huh. It’s been a while for Crow, but the activity was also included in his hunter training regime. He climbed up after Ren, then the two of them stopped at the top, looking down. 

Not long after, a lone, careful figure appeared, skilfully sneaking around the corners. 

The silhouette was hard to discern, constantly fluctuating and floating, like an additional splash of ink on the city's nightscape. 

Distorted by the vampire hunter’s dark cape. 

The metallic edge of the mask glimmered slightly when the man slipped from one shadow into another. 

Crow inhaled sharply. “The hunter.”

The mask looked familiar. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? Or the distance distorted its shape? Surely it couldn’t be—

Ren’s hand came to rest on his arm, making him flinch. “I think we’ve lost him for now.”

Crow turned to scowl at him, forgetting that expressions he made didn’t matter under the mask. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Ren said with a small smile. “You aren’t used to being on the receiving end of this game the Church is playing. Sometimes we don’t notice things merely because we don’t expect them to happen.”

“It’s barely an—”

“It’s an excuse as good as any, Crow. You will be prepared next time.”

Crow looked at him, stunned. Ren laughed softly and took his hand off his arm.

“Let's go in for now.”

“Go in…?”

“We are here,” Ren said, bending down and opening a wooden hatch in the roof, revealing a ladder leading down into darkness. “Welcome to my place.”

*****

For a moment Ren busied himself somewhere and a moment later, the flame from a gas lamp flickered, casting a warm light around. 

The attic room was surprisingly spacious and clean. There weren’t many pieces of furniture in it, just a few shelves, an old wooden table and a chair. What served for a bed seemed to be old crates piled up in a corner, with a mattress and a few blankets thrown on top of it.

Surprisingly, there was also a window there, letting in some of the fresh night air inside, and a normal door. So it wasn’t accessible only through the roof.

_Did you think all vampires live in hiding?_

_With everything you know now, you do realize there is no need for them to._

And Crow killed vampires before. 

He staggered at the thought, knees refusing to obey him. He sat down heavily on the bed. 

“Making yourself comfortable alrea—” Ren started saying with a laugh as he turned to face him but suddenly went serious. “What’s wrong?” 

Crow breathed heavily, bent in half on the edge of bed. The silencer felt like a second skin, but too tight of one, pressing around his neck so strongly that he could not continue to ignore it. 

How was he hunting the vampires down before this? How did he just sink his blade into their hearts without a second thought? Why hadn’t he realized something was wrong _sooner_?

_Sometimes we don’t notice things merely because we don’t expect them to happen._

Was he so brainwashed by the Church’s teachings that such a simple observation kept escaping his mind all this time, warping even his vision? Would he have mindlessly continued on this path have Ren not _shown him the truth?_

There was a sudden, warm pressure on his hands, sinking in through the fabric of his gloves. 

The cursed gloves. 

The cursed hands. 

The blood that wouldn’t be cleaned off them no matter how much time passed. 

The blood of those like Ren.

He smacked the vampire’s hands away and held his own, trembling, close to his chest.

“Crow…” Ren’s voice wasn’t surprised. Not confused. It was gentle. It was almost like he understood. 

_You did nothing to deserve it._

_You did everything to not deserve it._

“Crow, look at me.” 

“I’ve killed vampires before,” Crow said, because he couldn’t look at him. And didn’t want to be looked at either. What was he _doing_ all this time? Putting his everything into becoming the best in… what turned out to be a one big lie. 

He wanted Ren to turn away with disgust and leave him alone.

_Do you?_

“I know.” The vampire’s voice was so tender it made Crow want to cover his ears. But he had covered them from the truth for long enough already, hadn’t he. “I’m no better than you, Crow. I won’t judge you for doing something you had no idea about. There is no greater, but also no more fair punishment than realizing your own sins. And how can you stand against the god when he dictates you what the sin is and what will bring you glory?” 

Crow looked up at him in surprise. The traces of sadness and anger alike mixed on Ren’s face.

“You are not as evil as you think,” Ren rose up from his crouch at Crow’s feet. “You are already a step ahead of those who don’t fight against their fates.”

Crow reached up to his silencer, stroking the complicated pattern on it. That’s right. He broke so many rules already. And breaking each one of them made him feel more _free_ than anything, even if it brought him different kinds of pain.

“You know,” Ren said, and when Crow looked up at him again, he noticed the vampire rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “I wanted to ask before but… why did you decide to speak that time?”

“That time?”

“When we first met, when you reached out to me, asking if I’m okay,” Ren reminded him. 

Well, that was… a strange question.

“What else would I have done?” 

“Aren’t the hunters only supposed to speak to Yaldabaoth?” Ren furrowed his brows. “How come you just… broke the rule like it was nothing?”

“It’s just… the rule…” he deflated with a lingering sense of guilt. When he broke the first one, he was set on hiding the fact without any feelings of remorse. How come he started feeling bad now?

“The neck protectors,” Ren started pacing around the room, “are supposed to bend your cognitive outlook on their actual abilities. They are supposed to… make you actually mute as a result of the teachings implemented deep into your psychology.” 

Crow gaped, the face unsightly would it be made by him while unmasked. He didn’t understand _a word_ from what Ren just threw down on him. And more so, the reason as to _why_ he even knew something like this in the first place. Wasn’t it the knowledge reserved strictly for the Council or something? Even _Crow_ , the hunter himself, didn’t know that.

“Do you mean… there should be a spell placed on it? But it didn’t work?”

Ren shot him a sharp look, one side of his mouth curling up in a smile. “Something like that,” He moved closer again and bent down, their eyes meeting on the same level now. He was close. So close, if only Crow didn’t wear a mask, he would be able to feel his warm breath on his cheeks. He flinched at his own thoughts.

“You are incredible, Crow. Your mind is incredible. You fought against forces greater than you and you emerged victorious. All with your own strength. It’s the true spirit of rebellion.” Ren’s eyes were glimmering with excitement, catching the light from the lamp’s flame to ignite their own inside his pupils. 

Crow felt like if he stared into it any longer, that fire will burn him down to his core.

“So if people learned the truth,” he changed the topic back to the question asked before, averting his gaze. “What would happen?”

Ren’s face turned serious and thoughtful. “In the Church's opinion, it would endanger its existence. Make its faithful servants turn away to the new gods. If there is one thing Yaldabaoth can’t give people, it’s the gift of life. And that is, coincidentally, the only thing the vampires can offer.”

“It… is incredible, surely. But even if they can _heal_ , it’s not like vampires can bring dead back to life,” Crow said, glancing at Ren. 

Something dark flashed in his eyes in that split second. Or maybe it was just his imagination. 

The lamp’s flame kept turning and flickering, moved by the air seeping in through the open window.

“You see, the vampires…” Ren sighed and winced slightly, “their current reputation is partially what they brought onto themselves. From ancient times it was fear that kept people from inquiring, intervening. The creatures of the dark were a perfect entity to scare children with, to keep the importunate away from the secrets.” Ren looked towards the window, his gaze turning distant. “But people, you see… people are not afraid of the dark anymore.”

The silence fell upon the room, coating their silhouettes in the echo of Ren’s words.

Crow looked at the gas lamp, driving the shadows away, forcing them to hide in the deepest corners of the room. He thought of the street lamps, brightening up the quiet nights.

People weren’t afraid of the dark anymore, indeed. 

They waged war against it.

“So it was… a purposeful distortion. Making themselves seem like monsters.”

Ren nodded, his eyes still looking into the night. Or maybe somewhere further.

“It was. A way to protect themselves, you might say. The history, the change, it’s all going to verify if the decision was right or wrong in the end. The Church started taking advantage of it a long time ago already, but it feels like they are at their limit of tolerance.” The vampire finally looked back at him. “Or maybe they aren’t. Maybe they are just stirring things up a bit, to remind everyone who the common enemy is. There are not many things in this world that unite people better than a shared hatred.” 

Crow gripped the fabric of the soft blanket he was sitting on. “It wasn’t supposed to be about the hatred. It was supposed to be about light and guidance. Eliminating the dark.”

Ren came closer and sat next to him on the bed without a sound.

“Yaldabaoth is the god of control, Crow. When you think of having control over something, it usually means something good. Control is… opposite to chaos. It’s order, it’s a straight path with a clear goal. But if you feel the desperate need to control something or someone, it only means there is no trust there.”

“No trust…” Crow brushed his fingers against the silencer again. It was uncomfortably tight.

Being forced to follow blindly, sculpted into obedience. Voices and faces taken away from them. And further, if what Ren said was true, their minds, captured into prisons devoid of self. That’s all there was to hunters. 

Control. 

No choices. 

No trust.

_You trusted, but were never trusted before._

_Or… were you?_

“Why are you telling me all of this?” Crow forced the words to leave his tightly clenched throat. “Even if I broke the rules, even if I sinned, how do you know it’s not all part of the scheme to trap you? I’ve been given this mission, you know, to catch the vampire roaming around, the Double-Fanged Demon. I could just go and turn _you_ in any time, I could—”

Ren’s hand covered his, the one the fingers of which were now dug deep down into the mattress.

“You are different from them,” he said simply.

“You say that _now_ , but what if—”

“I’ve said it _before_ already.”

_He did. When you met for the second time._

“Why would you trust your enemy?” Crow whispered, voice hitching in his throat.

“I didn’t trust my enemy,” Ren murmured, his hand gripping Crow’s tighter. “I trusted you.”

The air beneath his mask was suddenly too little to breathe. The gloves on his hands too tight to move his fingers. The silencer on his neck too fake to keep him voiceless any longer.

**_I_ ** _don’t want this anymore._

**_I_ ** _want to be free._

He turned to Ren almost desperately, surprising the vampire. His eyes widened and he almost let go of Crow’s hand, but Crow was faster, catching it and lacing their fingers together.

“Free me.” He whispered, as if he entrusted his all to Ren.

Ren’s face scrunched up in something akin to a heartache for a second, but then he gently unthreaded Crow's fingers from his own and then reached out to his mask. 

Ren’s fingers trailed its cold metal lines. The curve of its beak, the sharp edges, the smooth surface.

When his thumbs made it under the mask and touched his jaw, Crow shuddered despite himself. No one had _touched_ his bare skin for so long. That night was… different. He wasn’t really himself. But now, fully aware of what’s going on, without that pleasant fog clouding his mind, all of his senses were concentrated to the point it made him feel oversensitive. 

Entrusting himself into Ren’s hands, he felt so open, so vulnerable, almost _violated_.

The parts of him that no one had ever seen or knew of before; presented to this vampire on a silver platter.

But after basking himself in the fake light for so long, there was nothing he wanted more than to get defiled.

Ren stopped at his sudden reaction, though, and looked at him questioningly. Crow blinked slowly in confirmation, not trusting his voice.

The vampire smiled a small smile and started to slowly push the mask up, careful to not let Crow’s hair get pulled. His fingertips brushed against the hunter’s jaw, cheeks, cheekbones like a gentle caress. 

Crow didn’t know where to focus his gaze, strangely embarrassed by the thought of someone other than him knowing his real face. He certainly couldn’t look at _Ren_ now. 

_What will he think about me?_

_Will he be disappointed?_

He tried to push the insecure thoughts away. It would be over soon regardless. It was too late to turn back now even if he wanted, and he _didn’t_.

The hair he kept pushed back under the mask slipped from under it, no longer restrained, and fell down to his forehead in caramel-colored locks. Only when the weight of the metal completely disappeared from his face, leaving it naked and defenseless, he realized he was holding his breath the entire time.

He let it out slowly, looking down at his knees, then breathed in quietly. 

Why wasn’t Ren saying anything? 

He risked a quick glance up at the vampire’s face. 

His eyes were on Crow’s face, the light from the lamp reflecting in them like a hungry flame. Startled, Crow tried to lower his head again, but two warm palms caught his cheeks gently, two thumbs tracing the arcs of his cheekbones. 

He felt Ren’s warm gaze heat his own face up.

“You are beautiful,” Ren said, leaving him dumbfounded. 

But… he supposed he should say something too.

“You… don’t look like a monster,” he murmured, looking to the side, unable to meet the other’s gaze yet again.

Ren chuckled softly and his right hand wandered up, brushing the hair from Crow’s forehead to the side. He swallowed and stubbornly focused his gaze on Ren’s tie.

“You know, to us, to the vampires, it’s you hunters who look like the monsters,” he said without malice. “The long black cloaks, the animalistic masks. Your abilities and the conviction that leaves no room for negotiation.”

Crow shifted on his seat, Ren’s hands so hot they were almost burning his skin. His eyes darted to the side. The window was still open, so why did he feel like he was boiling?

Ren’s palms left his face, probably mistaking his motion for discomfort. He was always so… thoughtful.

“No,” Crow called out, a bit too loudly against the silence and whispers hanging in the air.

He didn’t catch the vampire's hands, but he brought his own up to his neck, resting them on the silencer.

“This one, too,” he breathed out and this time he looked the other in the eyes. 

Ren’s eyes slightly widened for a second but then he let them narrow into gentle crescents. 

**_He_ ** _is the beautiful one._

Crow looked back down at his knees and at the same time Ren moved, this time with no more questions, voiced or muted. He positioned himself behind Crow’s back silently, his leg pressing against the hunter’s back.

Crow felt his muscles react instinctively by tensing up. Before, he would never let anyone behind him. He wouldn’t let anyone so close.

He couldn’t see it but he felt Ren reaching up to the corset-like lacing on the back of his neck. The silencer’s knots were complicated and tight to ensure the best protection against the vampire’s bite, but the vampire himself didn’t seem to have the slightest problem with untangling them. His movements were quick and efficient and soon Crow felt the familiar pressure loosening and disappearing from around his throat. 

It was indeed a strange feeling, more so when he recalled the truths he has learnt today. The silencer, the neck protection. It seemed that only the first name was accurate, and on top of that its meaning has always been twisted in his mind. 

He thought the sensation would be more… groundbreaking. But when all of the strings came undone and Ren took the silencer off completely, there was no wrathful cry of the betrayed god. Even the flame in the lamp didn’t flicker. 

It was more like the feeling of a puzzle piece fitting into its rightful place. 

Of the unexplainable weight disappearing from his mind. 

Of the capacity of his lungs suddenly increasing.

He took in a slow breath, tasting the air of newly acquired freedom on his tongue, when suddenly it hitched in his throat in a soft gasp. 

He felt Ren’s slim fingers tracking the back of his neck, sending pleasant chills down his spine. Instinctively, he tilted his head down slightly, sensitive skin searching more of the sensation. The vampire moved Crow’s ponytail to the side then over his arm and for a short moment Crow wondered, despite everything, if he was going to get bitten.

The spark of excitement warmed up his chest then climbed up to his face at the realization. 

Maybe he wasn't really fit to be a vampire hunter from the very beginning.

What came next, though, was a soft touch he had never felt before. The gentle kiss Ren placed on the back of his neck wiped his mind blank. 

He could have expected anything. 

The stab in the back. 

The revengeful strangle. 

The bite proving everything until now was a lie and he was too naive and weak and _betrayed_.

Not the tender pressure against his skin, where no one has ever touched him before in such an intimate gesture.

Not the soft tickle of another person’s breath, so close and yet so welcome and comfortable. 

A hitched gasp escaped his throat and his vision suddenly became wet and blurry, as if he had just dived into thick fog. 

He felt Ren’s lips parting from his skin then meeting it again in the crook of his neck. 

It wasn’t something Crow ever expected to happen to him. The vampire hunters were supposed to serve Yaldabaoth for their whole lives, entrust themselves wholeheartedly to fulfilling his mission. They were expected to never need anything apart from what he bestowed upon them, never feel anything that could intervene with their lone loyalty.

And yet, there he was, in a place that felt more like home than anywhere he has ever wandered to. With the person who he was supposed to eliminate in the name of a fake god, but who helped him open his eyes to the true world. 

And it felt _right_.

It felt like he finally reached a goal he didn’t know he was striving towards.

A quiet sob escaped his lips against his will and the next thing it was only Ren’s arms wrapping him gently from behind, holding him close to his chest.

He felt the weight of the truth, the lies and the past crashing down on him as he turned his body and buried his face in Ren’s shirt. It felt like its sudden, unmasked bareness was too much, like he needed to seek new protection to hide it from the world. He knew it won’t go on forever, but just for now, just for a short moment, he wanted to simply rely on someone. 

Ren stroked Crow’s head and back reassuringly, allowing him to fall apart. Reassuring him that even if he breaks, it only marks the new beginning.

Then he started humming. Quietly, a bit awkwardly at first, like he wasn’t used to it, his deep and gentle voice slowly overwriting the heartwrenching melody corrupting the air into a soothing lullaby. 

There were no more words between them, no more apologies to the dead or living. Only the quiet warmth of forgiveness and acceptance, of their bodies pressed so close together that if someone ever told him that hearts can’t communicate, he would deem them a liar. 

He didn’t really catch the moment when Ren’s presence and voice, together with his own exhaustion and tears finally put him to sleep. 

But he didn’t remember the last time his slumber was so peaceful, either.

_The vampires may try to deceive the hunter with their appearance._

_But they are not humans._

_They are mindless beasts._

_They are wolves in sheep’s clothing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... with the previous update we've reached the half point of the story. All questions have been asked, the time for answers and some s-soft Shuakeshu (〃ω〃) has come.
> 
> Crow went through the total crisis and emerged stronger, a soft and squishy marshmallow. I'm joking with the marshmallow but I needed that image in my head for a moment.  
> Some of the truths have been spoken here, but more awaits. Damn, only 2 chapters left after this.
> 
> Today in the scream-about-art corner: I was absolutely stunned by Crow's expression here. Poichanchan did such amazing job once again. I was looking at Crow's face for like 20 minutes with jaw dropped, wanting to hug the shit out of him - no joke. 
> 
> Next chapter under 24 hours!
> 
> link to the artwork by Poichanchan on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Poichanchan/status/1321877261948198912?s=20)  
> 


	7. Thou Shalt (Not) Speak Thy Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tights.

What woke him up was a gentle caress on his cheek. 

Had he not been a fully trained vampire hunter, that sort of wake up call would probably not cause the mess that followed.

By the time his mind fully awakened, his body had reacted already. Crow’s hand shot up and grasped the someone’s arm, twisting it down to the bed and punching out a surprised, pained gasp from the other’s lungs. 

Crow kicked his leg to the side, throwing off the blanket he was entangled in and hooked it over the intruder. Propping himself on the other hand he shifted his body, following the motion, and pinned the man to the bed. 

Only when he reached under the pillow in search of the short dagger he realized.

There was no pillow. No dagger. No intruder.

Well, if he thought of it this way, _he_ was the intruder here, wasn’t he?

Eyes the color of a stormy sky blinked at him from over the arm he was crushing Ren’s throat with. He withdrew it at once like it burnt.

“Oh, Lord,” he cursed involuntarily, and that was about how much of the human language he was able to recall at that moment.

“Better if he doesn’t answer.” Ren’s voice was a bit hoarse and he coughed weakly under a grimace.

“I’m— I’m so sorry,” Crow managed to say finally, feeling more and more agitated with every second.

“Don’t be,” Ren assured quickly then let his eyes wander from Crow’s face to his chest. “I’m not exactly complaining.”

Crow followed his gaze and almost choked on his own breath. 

He was… well, he was _exposed_. His chest was, specifically. 

His hunter’s uniform was gone, leaving only the loose, thin undershirt. It had gotten undone, probably from him moving in his sleep, so now both of its sides fell loosely, exposing his flat muscular stomach for the vampire to see. And it seemed like Ren was enjoying the view quite a lot.

Crow felt all the blood from his body rushing up to his face and quickly wrapped the front of the shirt back to its place, then folded his arms on the chest.

Ren snorted with what seemed to be both humor and disappointment and looked back at Crow’s face.

“What are you looking at?” The former hunter asked, noticing the sour undertone to his own voice with surprise.

“Give me your best guess.” Ren smirked impishly.

“Why don’t you move already?” Crow barked, trying to cover his embarrassment with anything else. In response, there was a sudden pressure on his hips, Ren’s two warm hands resting there with a lazy ease. 

“I would say I’m… in no position to.”

For a short second Crow considered going straight for murder.

He quickly got off the vampire and stood up, mechanically reaching out for his coat, but Ren’s hand caught his wrist, stopping him halfway.

“It’s probably not a good idea.” His eyes were serious again. “Your uniform is too recognizable. I think your true face is your best disguise right now.”

Crow thought for a moment then nodded in agreement, trying to not fluster over the mention of his bare face. Getting used to it was going to take some time. 

“Don’t worry, I will find something for you to wear. I think we are around the same size.” 

Ren got up, untangling himself from the blanket. His shirt wasn’t any less disheveled than Crow’s and upon noticing it, he quickly averted his gaze. The pale skin didn’t contrast much against the white of the fabric, but for some weird reason it seemed to draw his attention even more.

He sighed heavily and shook his head.

_What am I even thinking?_

He looked back at the bed, now a warm mess of creased blankets. It looked like a pair of lovers just left it. 

Crow felt the heat climbing back up his neck and face at the thought, and hurried to make the bed, trying to not feel like he was getting rid of some embarrassing evidence in the process. He was tempted to forge these feelings into anger, as venting has always helped him to calm down. But the vampire didn’t deserve more of it than he already got. 

Ren found him sitting on the very edge of the perfectly smoothened sheets. He was carrying a handful of clothes with him.

“Oh, you didn’t have to,” he said a bit sheepishly, glancing his way. 

_Yes, I had to._

“I’ve brought some clothes that I thought would suit you.” He gestured at the stack of clothes with his chin. You can choose whatever you want.” Ren slung them over the back of the chair. “Ah, they are clean, so don’t worry about this, either,” he added hurriedly and left the room.

Crow looked at the clothes with a spark of interest. They didn’t look like the ones Ren was usually wearing - the colors were more vivid, fabrics more smooth and shiny, some of them with delicate patterns. Not at all suited for mixing in the crowd in the merchant class neighborhood where they kept meeting for the last two months.

He picked up the first thing he laid his eyes on. It was a deep red tailcoat, finished with black and gold buttons. It was beautiful and soft to the touch. But not exactly what he wanted to wear for his first time out of the vampire hunter’s uniform. 

The next one was a deep blue jacket with a high collar and slightly puffed up sleeves that narrowed and then widened again, falling in folds of fabric over the wrists. It was a bit stiffer to the touch, better in terms of color, but the sleeves worried him. Had the need to fight arrived, they could get in the way.

He placed the two on the bed and looked at the rest of the clothes. A spot of dark green under red pants caught his attention, so he dug it up. It was an elegant vest, the color a bottle green. The golden buttons were a bit too fancy for his taste, but he liked it otherwise. He never thought of clothes this way, but he realized this color should suit the shade of his hair nicely. 

Finding the vest made the rest of the process easier - it was one of elimination at this point. He put aside all pieces of clothing that seemed to contrast too much with the vest’s green, leaving only the more toned down ones.

In the end, he decided on the pair of black pants, matching dark tailcoat and white tights. A pair of red gloves and a tie of the same color seemed like nice accents to add, so he picked them up too. 

Dressing up was a weird process, in a sense that for a very long time he put on the same kind of clothes day after day, following the procedure mechanically. The new pieces of clothing were interesting and he marveled at how Ren’s wardrobe suited him almost perfectly, just as the other guessed.

Pulling on the tights was probably the weirdest. The white cotton was soft but flexible and clinged tightly to his legs like a second skin. It was surprisingly comfortable, though and didn’t restrict his movements. He could get used to it.

Ren came back just as he finished dressing up, rolling his shoulders to see if the tailcoat would possibly allow him to fight in it.

The vampire had changed too, a fancy black top-hat tucked under his arm.

“You look… different,” Ren said, his eyes wandering on Crow’s body and face. 

He had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to answer that, so he only nodded in response. He couldn’t quite stop thinking about his face being so… bare. How was he supposed to deal with it? It felt alright, although still embarrassing, to have Ren look at him. But what about other people?

He supposed he would need to control his own expression all the time. He was used to doing it sometimes, in order to not let it affect his posture, the air around him. But _all the time_? He felt his palms sweating a little.

“So… what’s the plan?” he asked to distract himself from these thoughts. And he was sure that Ren _had_ a plan. All of the clothes he brought him and the ones he himself was wearing, were tailored characteristically for upper class gentlemen. 

“I’ve received a message,” Ren gestured at a stack of letters piled up neatly on the table, “from one of my… confidants. She finally managed to find a clue about who may be involved in the recent happenings. I must admit, I’m not surprised. When I saw the name, it all fell into place.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t believe I didn’t connect the facts earlier.”

“Do you mean… there is someone else involved, apart from the Church?” Crow ran his fingers through his ponytail. It had loosened while he had slept. He would need to ask Ren for a comb to fix it. 

The vampire’s eyes seemed to get caught in the motion for a second, before he refocused back on Crow. “Yes, apparently. It seems that the Pope’s greed keeps expanding. We will see what we can do about it. There is a certain place where some of the _important people_ are gathering every Saturday evening. It’s our lucky day.”

“You want to… go spy on them?” Crow looked down at his clothes, elegant but not exaggeratedly so, trying to think about anything that wasn’t his bare face and neck showing for the world to see. 

He swallowed nervously. It was… easier to think about going through the streets like this, blending into the crowd. But in a specific place like this, to his knowledge people tended to notice the smallest details about others, especially new faces. Not to mention gossiping. He suddenly didn’t feel ready at all.

_That would be it, for trying to not think about it…_

“That’s the plan. We have to be ready for anything, though. Even a fight.” Ren winced slightly, like the thought didn’t appeal to him even despite his great skill. “Innocent people and vampires are falling victim to some kind of shenanigans. If an opportunity comes to cut at least one of the strings holding it in place, I want to take it.”

“A scheme?” Crow asked, considering all he learnt recently, trying to connect it. 

He recalled Lion was one of the highest-ranking hunters, close to the Pope, often acting more like his personal bodyguard than anything. At first, Crow assumed he was sent on the mission to hunt down the Double-Fanged Demon, like himself. But then, to his knowledge, he attacked Crow - knocked him out and injured, to the point Ren needed to heal him. Lion was waiting for him, maybe for _them_ . It meant their connection, Crow’s _betrayal_ may have been found out earlier than he thought. But if so, why didn’t the Church try to get rid of him in a more formal way, trial and execution? 

“At this point, I believe the Double-Fanged Demon isn’t actually a vampire.” Ren tapped his chin in thought. “I assumed so at first, the bite marks were on the victims’ bodies, after all. The side effects of the healing powers may be used in wrong ways, too. It all depends on the person. Same as there are good and bad humans, there are good and bad vampires.” He sighed and let his hand fall back to his side.

“So it’s something the Church set up in order to drown the vampires. It may be a hunter’s doing. And then you say there is even more to it, even more people involved in all of this,” Crow summed up.

“Mhm,” Ren hummed in affirmation, and Crow noticed his gaze was drifting to his hair again. He held back from gripping at it anxiously. Surely, he wasn’t going to… suggest cutting it, was he? “Hey, about your hair,” he started suddenly and Crow almost jumped up, startled, “let me braid it for you.”

Crow breathed a sigh of relief. “You know how to?” he asked curiously, eyeing Ren’s own, short and curly locks. 

“I have a… little sister,” the vampire admitted and gestured for Crow to sit down on the chair. 

Crow followed obediently, against all odds feeling excitement building up in his chest. He was pretty proud of his hair, it was smooth and healthy without him needing to put much care into it. But he never got a chance to get it styled before. 

Ren’s hand untied his ponytail skilfully and soon he could feel his agile fingers running through his hair, scratching delicately at his scalp. He felt his shoulders relaxing at the pleasant sensation and leaned his head into the touch while closing his eyes. Ren chuckled softly and continued threading through his hair, sometimes giving him a light scratch. 

Then, he paused for a second and the next feeling was that of a comb properly untangling and straightening his slightly disheveled hair. 

“Your hair is so pretty,” Ren murmured, more to himself than to Crow, judging from how quiet it was. 

He allowed himself a small content smile. 

When Ren finished brushing his hair, he started parting it into even strands, putting some over Crow’s shoulders to fall loosely onto his chest. Then, he started braiding them with skillful movements. 

Crow couldn’t help the stir of anticipation inside his mind. He couldn’t _see_ what Ren was doing, but he felt the natural confidence emanating from the vampire. 

The whole process was so pleasant and comfortable, Crow entered some sort of daze. He mostly kept his eyes closed, but when he opened them, he let them wander aimlessly around the part of the room he was facing. It looked different than it did during the night, now with the gentle light seeping in through the window and basking it in its warmth. 

Crow followed the movement of the small particles floating lazily in the rays of light. _The fairy dust_ , his mother used to tell him, when as a kid he asked what those shiny little things were. 

He didn’t realize he was smiling until Ren’s whisper brushed against his ear. “What are you looking at?” he asked, placing his palms on Crow’s arms lightly and kneading down with his thumbs. 

“The fairy du—” he stopped immediately upon realizing what he was even saying. “It’s nothing.” He frowned.

“Ah, don’t worry,” Ren chuckled softly, “if vampires and gods exist, why not fairies?” 

Crow resisted the urge to swat at his hands and frowned more deeply instead.

Ren sighed and his hands left his arms, only to go back at once to smoothen the fabric. “There, you are all ready to go and outshine the sun itself.”

Crow felt the sparkle of excitement light up in his chest upon the chance to see his braided hair. He stood up and looked around in search of the mirror only to see Ren took care of this already, passing the round object to him. 

The braid was beautiful. None of the stray hair was falling loose out of it, the plait not overly complicated but elegant. There was even a single ribbon, deep green to match his vest, woven into it. Crow moved the braid from his back onto his chest, feeling a silly urge to stroke it. 

“Do you like it?” Ren asked with a coy smile lingering on his lips. 

Crow returned the mirror and answered with a smile of his own. Untrained, probably crooked. Not even slightly on a par with Ren’s. But genuine. “Mm, I like it.”

Ren’s hand quivered, like he wanted to reach out to him but hesitated. He wrapped his other one around its wrist. “We can go soon,” he said finally after a minute of silence. “I will treat you to something”

For the most part of the day they spent walking around the town, but if he was being honest, Crow didn’t really recall much of it. The thought of having his face and neck exposed like this was making him a lot more nervous than he wanted to let show. He knew it wasn’t exactly normal. So many people lived their lives without paying attention to such things. As Ren said the previous night, it was more _weird_ to actually _hide_ your face instead. 

And yet he couldn’t help reaching towards his neck nervously from time to time, to slightly tilt his head down for his bangs to cover more of his face. He hoped Ren wasn’t noticing these things, making sure he wasn’t looking when Crow did them. But knowing the vampire, his observation skills and how easy of a time he had at deduction, he probably just refrained from pointing them out.

His suspicion was confirmed when suddenly at one point, Ren stopped by a vendor selling scarves and shawls, and bought one. 

“For you,” he said, wrapping Crow’s neck tightly but comfortably in it. “Sorry for not thinking of it earlier.”

The evening came a lot faster than expected, finding them in another part of the city, less familiar to Crow. The people there were in less of a hurry, moving around with elegant, calculated strides, like every movement was a performance. 

The dresses were longer, patterns richer, fabrics softer. Men were holding walking canes, not infrequently inlaid with gold or silver. Another detail was jewelry. The women wore gemstone earrings and necklaces; rings flickered on many of their hands. Not uncommon were the gloves and top-hats, similar to the one Ren was wearing. They may have looked pretty ridiculous on some people, Crow noticed, but not on him.

The vampire led him through these strange, peculiar alleys, filled with unfamiliar impressions and scents, often glancing back at him, as if to ensure Crow didn’t get lost along the way. There was a small smile tugging at his lips sometimes when he looked at him, and Crow wondered what in his face was making him like this. He resisted the urge to bow his head in an attempt to not let the other read too deeply into him.

Their destination was unmistakable. The huge, fancy restaurant with far too many glass windows to provide a place to hide, too many candles and gas lamps lightening the inside as well as the outside of it to leave even a single shadow to sneak into.

On the outside, wooden stands served as a support for lush ivy trees. A few men stood around there, inhaling the smoke from pipes and cigars when it was another’s turn to talk, and exhaling the puffs of it just before joining the conversation themselves.

The mixture of the bitter-sweet smell of the tobacco leaves and something resembling cherries drifted their way, where they stood in the alleyway a few meters away. Ren was observing the entrance, as if waiting for something.

Crow was about to speak up to break the silence, when the vampire turned to him with a serious expression, making the unspoken words stick in his throat.

“Crow, there is one more thing I suppose you should leave behind for your own safety.” He grimaced slightly at his own words. “And another matter. I know it’s not easy and I just want you to know you don’t have to follow me. This matter is no longer your concern. You are free now.”

Crow looked at him for a moment without understanding, then felt a sudden tinge of irritation blooming in his chest. He thought after all they’ve been through until now, his stand on the matter was obvious.

“Don’t be stupid.” he scoffed, narrowing his eyes, aware that his expression was out of his control now, but not really finding a reason to care about it right this moment. “It’s my business no less than yours. Or do you think I’m too confused or too weak to go through with my conviction?”

Ren’s eyes widened in shock for a second. “That’s not what I— no, I— ” he trailed off, also looking away from his face. 

They were silent for a minute, with each of them emanating a different kind of tension. 

“I’m sorry,” Ren said in the end, surprising him. “I tried to be considerate but it came off wrong.” He looked Crow in the eyes, his gaze firm and unwavering this time, just like he knew it. “You need to leave your name behind. Can you tell me your real name?”

Crow looked at him, stunned. 

It made sense when he thought about it. His codename was commonly known in the Church, outside of it too, was the name he was known with for all of his achievements. No doubt it would also be known in the circles of upper classes. It would be too much of a coincidence if someone bearing such an unusual name showed up. He had no idea if word of his betrayal was spread around already, but it _was_ a possibility.

He swallowed, looking down at his feet, suddenly unable to look Ren in the face. 

His birth name. The one his mother gave him. He didn’t say it or hear it said out loud in almost two decades. 

Sudden fear overwhelmed him that he forgot it.

When he looked at Ren again, the vampire’s face had a look of understanding. He didn’t press on further, he just waited.

Crow opened his mouth, suddenly dry, feeling his heart hammering against his ribs. 

_This shouldn’t be so hard._

_So many people use their real names. It’s normal to do so._

He recalled the sixth rule of the vampire hunters. Was it holding him back? The line, ingrained in his mind, seemed to burn with the fire so cold it made him shiver. For some strange reason it was rooted in him deeper than any other.

But he was free now. He couldn’t allow the words of a fake god rule over him anymore. The thought turned into conviction as he gripped the handle of the borrowed cane till the red glove on his hand stretched dangerously.

He won’t let anyone control him ever again.

“Goro,” he whispered softly, like with this one word he was offering his whole existence to the man before him yet again, “my name is Goro.”

“Goro,” Ren repeated. Slowly, delightfully, as if he was tasting the sound of it on his tongue and it proved to be the rarest delicacy. 

Goro - that’s how he should think about himself now, right? - felt the skin on his face burning and the shawl Ren gave to him was suddenly too tight, too hot, not allowing him to breathe normally. 

_Maybe I should have just stuck to Crow._

Ren chuckled softly and next thing his hand was caressing against Goro’s forehead, brushing his bangs to the side. He climbed to his toes and placed a kiss right above his eyebrow. 

“Happy birthday, Goro,” he said with a playful smirk.

_Maybe I should have not._

Goro cleared his throat and looked away from those piercing grey eyes, feeling somewhat desperate to move on from that spot. It would be so much easier if they fought or something. Fighting - he knew how to do that.

_The hunter’s real identity must never be known._

_The hunter’s name, body and soul belong to Lord Yaldabaoth._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always have so much to say to each chapter but then when it comes to writing the end notes my mind just goes blank xD 
> 
> Very important thing - have you guys realized the absolute genius behind the Church giving vampire hunters neck protection? It's all on Poichanchan and her big ass brain. It's trademarked, all rights reserved, all credit for this idea goes to her. Honestly it blew my brain, it's such a simple but smart and creative idea, I was like :0 every time I remembered it and I'm so grateful I could expand this idea on the plot and characterization. Bless. 
> 
> Some of you who witnessed Maha's breakdown over Akechi bouldering and wondered if it's connected to the mention of bouldering in previous chapter... it was, I confirm it now. 
> 
> Another thing... damn. Tomorrow's chapter is... the last one. Wow. This week was... unexpected. I'm looking at the kudos count like :0 not even mentioning all of the comments that make me laugh and cry happy tears. And honestly I'm a bit stressed before tomorrow, too, I really hope the finale will be satisfying *sweats*. 
> 
> Be ready for even more thank-yous with the last update. I didn't manage to answer all of the comments until now but I'm so thankful for each and every one of them. The returning readers, I see you, I'm so happy to see the consecutive impressions, it helps me evaluate my own storytelling... skill/workshop and it's the most precious experience TwT  
> That being said, I'm definitely going to answer every single comment that will be left under the last chapter because I really want to have a chance to thank everyone individually TwT
> 
> Next update under 24 hours!
> 
> link to the artwork by Poichanchan on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Poichanchan/status/1322302385436446720?s=20)  
> 


	8. Thou Shalt (Not) Walk The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned that this version may have some poor grammar still, my beta needs a rest for the exams <3

The restaurant was bright and spacious. The main room’s floors were darkwood, its walls tapestries of ivory and golden patterns. Elegant tables decorated with bright tablecloths, fancifully folded napkins and fresh flowers, gleamed with silver cutlery. Candle flames reflected in the glasses of expensive wine. Wherever he looked, chic gowns and tailcoats captivated with the elegance of their figures, adorned with tons of jewelry worn like conceit itself rather than gems.

Goro didn’t feel _right_ where he was, sitting a few feet away from other tables and yet still among them. Ren picked a place in the corner of the room, with a good view of the main door, following those who came in and out without the need of making any suspicious motions.

The clinging of forks, the noise of idle chatter, laughs more or less honest, everything mixed in the closed space, making him feel slightly dizzy, overwhelmed with so much stimuli. He looked up at Ren over his menu, his eyes fixed on Goro, lips moving, and it took him a second to realize the other was talking to him.

“...thing you want?”

“Oh, I— my apologies, can you repeat?” he asked, trying to not reach up and rub at the side of his neck. 

“No need to be so formal,” Ren chuckled. “In the menu,” he repeated with a smile. His top-hat was hung on a wooden hanger behind him, allowing his shiny black curls to fall down freely on his forehead and cheekbones. “Is there something you want?”

Goro tore his gaze away from the particularly adorable curl over Ren’s eyebrow and looked down at his menu again. It didn’t get any less mysterious. He felt like an illiterate.

“I don’t know what all these dishes are,” he admitted, and before he could stop it, his traitorous hand reached up and tucked the loose strand of hair behind his ear. He knew it’s the sign of embarrassment, and it was the last he wanted to show to the vampire. He sighed quietly to himself. “In the… In that place, it was always the same, plain meals.” Goro stroked the handle of the silver knife absentmindedly. “Anything you’d recommend?” 

Ren hummed thoughtfully and flipped through a few pages. “Do you like sweet things?”

Goro frowned. “Like.... sugar?”

Ren chuckled softly - despite himself, as Goro concluded when the other almost slapped his palm against his mouth. He frowned deeper.

“I’m sorry,” the vampire hurried, noticing his expression, “I guess the desserts weren’t exactly one of the staples in there. Nothing has changed, huh?” he murmured the last sentence but Goro still heard it.

He froze, staring at Ren. “What do you mean, nothing changed?”

The other flinched slightly, flustered at the realization of his own words. 

_He didn’t tell me something._

“I— Uh, don’t worry about it.” Ren’s brows knitted together, but he didn’t look angry. He seemed upset.

Goro tightened his grip on the leather cover of the menu, the gloves rubbing against it in a low grinding sound.

“I will tell you,” Ren looked him straight in the eyes, “I will tell you everything, but not now.” His gaze drifted towards the door and his eyes widened slightly. “It seems like our… object of interest is here.”

Goro forced himself to not look over his shoulder. He probably wouldn’t be able to tell which one Ren meant anyways, as a bigger group of people seemed to enter.

It seemed like the meeting of these people was going to take some time, so they ordered something to eat. Or more like, Ren ordered for both of them. When the dishes got delivered to their table, Goro eyed his suspiciously. It was strangely colorful with different kinds of fruits, topped with a cream that looked like a fluffy cloud. The main part of the dish were a few round and thick cakes stacked in a neat pile. 

The _pancakes_ were an absolutely different kind of sweetness than sugar, making him realize why Ren’s reaction was what it was. Once he tasted them, they drew all of his attention onto themselves until the last piece vanished between his lips. He wondered briefly if the saying “sweet as sin” he heard before was made up to describe dishes like this. And if it was exactly the reason why it never made it to the hunters’ menu. He definitely felt like a sinner now.

“Say, Goro, do you know others from your… school?” Ren asked suddenly, placing his fork and knife down on the empty plate, forming an “X” with them. He rested his elbows on the bright tablecloth and folded his palms together before resting his chin on them.

“ _Know_ may be an… exaggeration. But we’ve worked together before,” he answered, putting down his own cutlery like Ren did with his. 

Really, the most he knew about other hunters were their codenames, as they weren’t supposed to be able to talk in the first place.

“You know, there are other ways of communication, except for talking,” Ren said with a slight tilt of his head to the side. His eyes were wandering between Goro’s face and something… probably _someone_ behind him. 

“Do you really think we would think about it?” he grunted in response. “The rules are strict.”

“Well, honestly? Yes. No human is a completely lone wolf. We exist by being perceived by others and perceiving them. We need others to survive. We need others to not be lonely.”

Goro snorted lightly and mimicked Ren’s position with his hands on the table. “If you are lonely for your whole life,” he murmured, “you don’t see it as something bad, as it's all you ever knew.”

He has been told to never think about it and so he barely did. The normal people were just different species than the hunters. If he thought of it that way, there was no need to be jealous of that normalcy.

“I think you’ve just captured the Church’s ideal in this one sentence,” Ren snorted with amusement. “But this is the exact reason to show everyone the truth. To clear this fog of a cult that’s keeping their minds clouded.” His eyes grew kinder. “The knowledge. It’s a force beyond good or evil. Beyond subjective and objective. It’s what they fear the most, what they try to manipulate for their own means. But there is a limit to how much they can control reality. To how thinly they can stretch their lies over the truth.”

Crow listened in silence, looking at Ren’s face, bright with passion and confidence. 

He wondered how long he had been fighting. 

Ren mentioned once that a vampire’s life is long. Just how long was his, to enable him to sound so infallibly? 

There was a deep truth in his words that touched something inside Crow. That stirred his spirit to raise up against the Church, to challenge it and take back the freedom. Not only his, but everyone else’s.

“It seems like there is a lot more the Church is hiding than I originally thought,” Goro said. 

“Not only them,” Ren said, his voice more quiet again. “The vampires too. They are victims this time, no doubt, but no one is completely innocent. And maybe that’s the point. Both sides are so focused on dividing they forgot all they have in common. We are all more similar than everyone thinks. The differences between us lay in the abilities, but isn’t that a normal thing?”

“There are also mindsets,” Goro added, matching his tone of voice. “The way we are raised and how we live our lives.”

“Do you know how vampires come to life?” Ren’s pupils resembled the silver cutlery in this lightning.

“Come to life? Not… are born?”

“Bingo.” He tilted his head to the other side with a smile. “I don’t think anyone has ever been _born_ as one. There are certain steps, a procedure that must be followed in order to turn someone into one.”

Goro straightened in his chair. “So it’s just… people. Always have been.” There was a lot of weight in this knowledge. Almost too much. 

“Either way,” Ren picked up, looking Goro straight in the eyes, “I think you should know. Just in case. Maybe everyone will know soon, too.”

“And who were _you_ before?” Goro asked suddenly, a question that’s been tugging at his mind for a while now. He had his suspicions already, but...

Ren didn’t expect it. It was obvious from his expression, surprised, slightly embarrassed. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth when suddenly his gaze focused on something past Goro. 

“I’m sorry, Goro. It’s our chance, come,” he said quickly, halfway up from his seat already. 

Goro held back a sigh.

_Remember what we are here for. Time for other things will come eventually._

He followed Ren through the room, adjusting to his not too hurried pace. A good decision - they could be seen as suspicious if they acted too hasty there, in the crowd.

When they got outside, the air seemed colder than before. It was nothing strange, however, as the sun has already set. All of the sounds seemed to echo against the tall walls of the buildings now, in a way that never happens during the day. 

They followed the two men quietly from a safe distance. Goro kept thinking if it was him he would instantly suspect something. They weren’t trying to hide, exactly. But the men also acted somewhat suspicious. It made him wonder if he and Ren were being led somewhere, straight into the trap possibly.

The repeated glances he casted at the vampire didn’t bring any answers.

It was a bit unusual, if he was the one to judge. Seeing Ren so single-mindedly focused on a goal, not mindful of surroundings. 

But then again, it probably made sense. Many of his kind, as well as other innocent, fell victim to the perpetrators. From their talk Goro was getting a grasp of what Ren was really fighting for, too, and his goal seemed even greater than simple revenge. He shouldn’t blame him for focusing so strongly on the targets now. The possibility of solving at least this one case, ending it for good, was so close. 

The longer they followed them, the more peculiar one of the men seemed to him. He was wearing a high-collar coat, his gait confident but in a slightly stiff way. When he turned his head, allowing Goro to take a look at his profile, there was something strange in his expression. It was… wooden. Careful, like one of a person not used to showing their bare face to the world.

It looked exactly how Goro felt after taking his mask off.

A few things happened next. 

Goro realized they are suddenly a lot closer to their targets, even though Ren’s tempo was stable, unchanging. The man he kept observing turned his face again and their eyes met briefly. There was a sudden movement in the shadows before them. Their targets spinned around.

Goro and Ren were surrounded in a brief second.

A quick look at the vampire's face said he expected it. 

The wide grin on his lips, that he was waiting for it.

Goro adjusted his grip on the cane. It wasn’t his - his was too recognizable, but Ren found another one somewhere in his house to give him instead. He hoped it would be as reliable as his own.

“Well, well, well…” the less suspicious of the men spoke, took his hat off and bent his body in a parody of a courteous bow. “Who do we have here? An infamous… Joker. And in such fine companionship, too. Crow, I suppose?”

Goro’s mind froze. 

Joker? Did they mean Ren? Crow? How did they know it’s him? 

He glanced at another man’s stiff expression. Maybe that was how. He gritted his teeth in anger. So it _was_ a trap from the beginning. 

“Kaneshiro, I suppose?” Ren mimicked the man’s court mannerism. “Not that it matters, really. I know you are just a pawn to someone above you. Not meaning much more than a dirt under his feet, I imagine.”

The man called Kaneshiro snorted with amusement. “Everything has its natural order, you filthy monster. Even if it’s like this now, I will prove myself by dragging your corpse to him. The betrayer will raise the reward considerably, too. There were no traitors among the hunters for decades now. I wonder how much is your pretty face worth?” His laugh was malicious, felt almost physical, like something disgusting creeping up Goro’s body. He forced himself to not shudder.

Ren’s expression switched to angry in an instant. Goro has seen many of his faces, even today he learned the new ones. But this one was a display of emotions he never expected to reside inside the vampire. Raw, unrestrained rage, twisting his features into a grimace of pure bloodlust. He bared his teeth, slightly pointed fangs scraping against the lower lip, drawing a thin trickle of blood. Ren’s eyes lit up like two yellow flames. 

Goro watched every slightest change on the vampire's face with a mix of shock and awe. He didn’t understand why he got so furious. The threat was pointed at _Goro_ , after all. Was he… also something Ren wanted to protect? The thought seemed unbelievable but Ren’s actions spoke for themselves. 

There were many questions echoing inside Goro’s head. Many things he needed the vampire to explain to him. About vampires, Church, Ren himself. About _them_. 

But, with how fast everything happened in the next moment, he didn’t even have time for the words to materialize in his mind.

Ren jumped forward. His hand caught Kaneshiro’s throat, nails suddenly sharp, digging into skin and drawing blood. “You won’t have him.” 

Goro recognized from the twitch of Ren’s hand what he was about to do.

“No!” he called out before he was able to think why he did. 

Ren’s eyes went wide with surprise, his face falling back to normal in an instant. He bit down on his lip and threw the man against the wall with one quick motion. 

Kaneshiro grunted from the pain of the impact and slid down the wall to the ground. 

Goro took a quick look around, Ren suddenly back by his side, squeezing his arm reassuringly. The hunters. Not counting the unmasked one, four of them. The face covers crafted in motifs inspired by animals glowed in the dim light of the streetlamps. 

Snake, with vertical slits for the eyes. 

Ox, with small, symbolic horns sticking out of the forehead part, too short to grab on them and use as an advantage in the battle. 

Owl, with round cheeks and a small beak. 

Fox, with the characteristic ears and nose. 

Something was wrong and Goro cursed at himself for not noticing earlier. The hunters weren’t attacking, despite the fact they were supposed to kill the vampires on sight. They must have had other orders, then. 

“What are you doing?!” Kaneshiro’s frightened shriek tore through the tense, night air. “Kill them!”

The hunters didn’t move. So _those_ weren’t the orders. 

The Unmasked looked down at the Kaneshiro, then back at Goro and Ren, standing with their backs pressed to each other now. The position most suited to fight and defend against the greater number of enemies. 

“There is not much time left for you, Crow,” he said hoarsely, a cold, knowing smile on his face. 

Goro felt his blood freeze. 

_Time left? Does he know something? And why is he_ **_talking_ ** _?_

He gripped the cane more tightly.

“But there is still a chance for you,” the man said. Goro wanted to either cover his ears or get into a fight already, but Ren didn’t move. So he waited. “Come with us. Return to the light.”

Goro pursed his lips. Shook his head. Pressed his back harder against Ren’s. 

He wasn’t alone. He didn’t have to ever be alone again.

“So _that’s_ your choice. A pity.” The man reached under his coat, pulled out the mask. Lion. He waved his hand. 

The hunters attacked.

Goro… didn’t want to kill them. 

They were silent and quick. Their trained movements were precise and merciless. Goro knew their routine too well, while they barely knew his. 

He had another advantage over them, too. The knowledge. The doubt.

When Goro knocked Owl off his feet with three precise strikes, Fox wavered for a second before dealing the blow with his sword. Goro blocked the blade, the swing too light with hesitation to deal any real damage. 

His eyes met Fox’s for a second. Goro recognized that look.

“Don’t you wonder?” he asked quietly, pushing the blade back with his cane, held up in both hands. “Why is Lion different?” He didn’t know the answer himself, yet. But he fully intended to learn it.

Fox’s eyes widened and he jumped away, almost tripping over his feet, like if Goro just spat poison on him.

Owl attacked again, the curved dagger aiming at Goro’s stomach. He blocked it, caught the opponent’s wrist. Twisted. Only air left his lungs, no scream of pain. He wasn’t ready to break the rules yet. 

Goro thrust the edge of his open hand into the back of his neck. Owl’s eyes rolled to the back of his skull, his body limped. Goro kicked it away. 

He didn’t want to _kill_ them, but some pain was inevitable. He needed to protect Ren and himself. 

Goro wanted to take a look over his arm, see how the vampire was doing, but still had one enemy left himself. 

Kaneshiro was no threat, uselessly slumped in fear under the wall, hugging his legs like a little child. Lion was walking up to him, the dagger in his hand glistening in the moonlight. 

Goro didn’t want anyone to die tonight, if he could help it. Even someone like Kaneshiro, a puppet to someone else’s machinations, blinded with greed. And Goro knew that debts were a thing. Information was priceless. 

“Ren, take care of Fox!” he called out and sprang to the side. 

He twirled the cane between his fingers, yanked the hidden blade out. Lion noticed him just in time to react. 

The exchange was ugly. Lion, unlike other hunters, didn’t fight clean. His grip on the dagger was uncommon, instead of holding it blade-up, its tip faced the ground, like an oversized fang in a wild beast’s mouth. He didn’t slash, he stabbed down, the movement unbelievably hard to parry. It grazed Goro’s right arm, drawing blood.

“Why are you even fighting?” Lion taunted. “Don’t you feel it? The fate awaiting those who turned their backs away from the Light.” 

Goro didn’t understand. But he was also in no situation to ask. “There is no real light where we come from,” he answered calmly. 

“How foolish.” Lion laughed, a deep, ragged sound. “I don’t know how you are doing it, but—” he stopped suddenly, eyes widening. “It can’t be!” 

Goro was too slow this time. 

Lion’s hand grabbed on his shawl, the one Ren got for him earlier. He pulled on it strongly, basically tearing it off Goro’s neck. The pain was unbelievable, the delicate fabric rubbing against his neck with the force that made it feel like a metal grater against his sensitive skin. It almost choked him before the fine fabric gave up and tore apart, baring his throat. Goro landed painfully on his back.

Lion noticed the lack of the silencer on his neck. “IMPOSSIBLE!” he roared and threw the devastated shawl away. 

The fury in his gaze sent a shiver up Goro’s spine. He grabbed the cane from the ground next to him. He didn’t even register the moment it fell down. He joined the two parts together.

Goro didn’t want to _kill_ , but he stopped seeing another way out of it. He needed to live, for Ren, even if Lion needed to die for it.

“Goro!” Ren’s voice reached him, panicked. 

Goro knew what he was doing, though. 

Lion came at him without hesitation. 

Goro rolled on the ground.

Avoided one stab of the dagger.

The second.

He aimed at Lion’s heart. From this angle, the blade hidden at the tip of his cane will go straight through the ribs, into his heart. It will be death, but a quick one.

“Goro, the—!”

He stabbed, perfectly calculated trajectory. He pushed on the mechanism’s trigger.

“—cane!”

The blade didn’t pop out.

It wasn’t his cane, after all.

“GORO!”

Lion’s dagger buried deep into his stomach, all the way to the hilt. 

It was like the whole world stopped moving for a second. 

He let himself take a look to the side.

Ren’s yellow eyes, wide, glimmering in the darkness, as he pushed Fox away. 

His dark curls, unruly and more messy than usual from the fight.

His pale skin, now that he thought about it, resembling delicate porcelain.

His lips, soft and warm on his neck, on his forehead.

His fingers, tracing his face, pulling his mask away.

Every other part of him, 

everything Goro could have ever wished for

if he didn’t waste his wishes to ask answers off a fake god.

The dagger pulled out and Goro felt his lungs making an effort to suck the air the blade pushed out of him back in. It was strangely hard and painful. A natural thing like breathing, suddenly felt so complicated. 

Ren turned into a shadow.

Lion turned into a blur.

The firmament above Goro turned pale, with two burning, yellow moons.

He was pretty sure there was only one moon before.

“Do you trust me?” the sky asked.

It started raining.

“Yes.”

*****

_I know this feeling._

He woke up.

His mind was a bit fuzzy, detached, but his thoughts started to clear slowly once he opened his eyes. 

_I know this scent_.

He breathed in slowly, some stray thought in the back of his mind telling him he should have thought wrong about how easily it came to him. 

A familiar scent, a warm one, mixed in with the fresh chill of the night. 

It was quiet, very quiet, and he could only turn his head a bit to the side. The dark curls, pale skin, a glimpse of them. 

_I know this feeling_ , he thought again. A pleasant sensation, washing through his body from one spot, where two contrasting things press against it. 

Soft touch of the lips. 

Sharp but strangely non-painful bite of the fangs.

“Ren,” he whispered, because he would never mistake him for anyone else, ever. 

Something wet tickled against his neck. He couldn’t _see_ it but he _knew_. His vampire was crying. 

Goro— that’s right, that was his own name. 

Goro raised his hand, action, yet again - his mind whispered - strangely effortless. He let his fingers tangle in the dark hair, caressed the head. 

“Ren,” he said, closing his eyes, “I’m okay.”

He wanted Ren to be okay too. He didn’t want to be the source of his sadness.

Ren sniffed, a slightly choked cry. He pulled away from Goro’s neck, making him shiver at the loss of warmth against it. 

He didn’t look too well. His eyes were reddened, skin even paler than usual. 

There were a few droplets of blood clinging to his lips. For some reason, it made Goro feel good, knowing it was _his_ blood. Strange thing.

Ren’s hand cupped his face carefully. “I’m so sorry, Goro,” he whispered, his fingers caressing Goro’s cheek. “I will never be able to make it up to you.”

And then he understood. Why it was different from the last time the vampire bit him. Why the wound on his stomach didn’t hurt. He ran his tongue against his teeth experimentally. 

“Oh.”

Ren closed his eyes. His hand on Goro’s cheek quivered slightly, as if in an attempt to let go, but he reached out and held it in place.

“It’s okay,” he repeated with more conviction.

“But now you are—”

“The same as you.” He smiled softly. “But maybe we were always the same.”

Ren opened his eyes wide, staring down at Goro. The intensity of that glowing gaze made a heat climb up his face. 

“I don’t mind, Ren,” he murmured. “I would never mind as long as... “ he trailed off, suddenly shy to continue. 

_As long as you are with me._

He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to ask for it.

Maybe something betrayed him. Maybe Ren just understood him without words.

The vampire leaned in closer and Goro readied himself for another bite. But there was no bite, only Ren’s face over his, their noses brushing against each other. There was a question in Ren’s eyes, but also something more. Something like a restrained hunger. Goro felt the echo of it in his own gut, in his own mind. He recognized it. 

If their thoughts were united like this, he only had one answer to that mute request. Even if in his mind he wasn’t really sure he could live up to it, his heart didn’t see it as a problem.

He closed the distance between their lips first. 

A new path opened before him and he was determined to start his journey by making the right choices this time. His own choices.

When they parted, Ren rested his forehead on his and they stayed like this in silence for a few minutes. 

“I used to be a hunter too, before that,” Ren said quietly in the end. 

He moved slightly and put his head on Goro’s chest, one ear pressed against it as if he was listening to his heartbeat. Goro raised up one hand and started running his fingers through Ren’s dark locks. He almost didn’t feel the cold emanating from the ground underneath him.

“Mm,” he hummed. It explained a lot. His knowledge of the hunter’s tactics, practices, movements learned in training.

“I was like you. It’s as you said, maybe we were always the same. Maybe that’s why I started following you, why I thought you were different from the others. I saw my past self in you.”

“What happened?”

“I rebelled.” His low chuckle vibrated against Goro’s chest. “The thing you had on your neck, they weren’t in use back then. It may be my fault. The Church hunted me down, wounded heavily. It was an ambush. Some of the other hunters who knew my plans may have sold me out. In the name of the fake god.” Ren’s voice turned bitter. “Then she found me. I think her name was Lavenza. In my last moments she asked if I have it in me to fight against my fate, if I want to live.”

“You wanted to.”

“I wanted to.”

“Me too,” Goro whispered and tilted his head forward, kissing the crown of his head. He wasn’t sure where the gesture came from. But it felt _right_. “Thank you for giving me a chance to stay with you.”

Ren rose up on his arms and looked him in the eyes. His irises were back to normal now, gaze soft and already more familiar than anything Goro ever knew before.

“Thank _you_. For choosing me. For trusting me,” he said and smiled like Goro was something beautiful and precious. It made his heart skip a beat. He smiled back.

When they got up, he realized they were standing on the roof. And not just _any_ roof, but the one over Ren’s room. He must have somehow carried him all the way here.

“Kaneshiro surely wasn’t the only one involved in this,” Ren said some time later, pacing, tearing through the night air like a blade. “I had some suspicions before but I confirmed them today. There really is someone above him, someone else involved.”

“The Lion,” Goro mentioned, rubbing his arms to warm up a bit. “The Pope’s most trusted.”

“Yes. He clearly knew _too much_ to be just another ordinary hunter. And he talked freely.” He stopped pacing. “He expected the silencer to strangle you after you broke the last rule, didn’t he.” It wasn’t really a question.

Goro nodded. “It kept getting tighter with time… but I thought I was imagining things at first. You saved me more than once, Ren. And in many more ways than one.”

The vampire looked back at him, eyes narrowing into gentle crescents over a fond smile. “There is more we could do. Your life will change now. But in the future you can also change the lives of many others.” He took a step then next until he stood at the very edge of the roof. 

Goro joined him, looking down. Each small light in the window represented one or more lives, the people ruled and guided by the false god. 

To obedience, to hatred against what was… no much different from them, as it turned out.

Goro recalled Fox, the hesitation in his eyes, in his movements. They could save him. They could save many others, from the artificial prisons of their minds built by the Church.

“So?” he asked, shifting his gaze from the night scenery beneath their feet to Ren’s face. “What’s next?”

Ren smirked, the kind of stretch to his lips that only pulled the left corner of his lips up, like he was too lazy to raise the other one but couldn’t help giving away _something_.

His bright, gray eyes met with Goro’s, the challenging spark in them sending the pleasant shiver down the former hunter’s spine.

Ren outstretched his hand to him, welcoming, _promising_. Goro took it into his own, the warm weight more comforting than the weight of his cane’s handle, and squeezed. 

He would follow him anywhere, even to the darkest pits of hell.

Ren used the chance to pull him closer, the other hand resting comfortably on Goro’s hip, pressing their bodies together.

The smirk still didn’t leave his lips as they found Goro’s in a long, achingly sweet kiss.

When Ren finally answered, it was in a murmur.

A soft, tickling sensation against Goro’s ear, like the darkest secret passed around in the dead of night with a hushed whisper.

“What do you say we fight a god?”

  
  


_There is only one path a human should follow._

_The holy light of Lord Yaldabaoth that is cast upon His faithful servants warms them in a gentle embrace of life._

_Those who oppose His will shall burn to ashes in its glory._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... we've reached the end(?) of the story. I hope it was a satisfying one!
> 
> I... I said this is going to be very long but honestly I... my mind is blank xD I'm looking at all the kudos and comments and I can't believe this is happening, huh? You guys are.... wow. I love you all so much, I never expected such a response. I will miss this fic a lot for this and many other reasons. Everyone's encouragement and hype was a light to me in the dark stuff happening in my country right now! TwT
> 
> You may not believe it, but this fic was supposed to be 7k words long at first, not super deep, just a small thing for the vampire week, without my emotional engagement. It... escalated, as you can guess, but I'm happy about it. It's the kind of story I like to both read and tell, and I think I'm... proud of the end result.
> 
> I wanted to thank @Poichanchan again. Girl, this fic would be nothing without you *"I am nothing without you" plays in the background*. Your support and ideas were just the best, what else can I say TwT <3  
> I want to thank my beta too (I know you are looking!) who took on the role while not even being into Persona 5 OR vampires, but still did it for me and apparently enjoyed, too. Love you.  
> And god, I know it's becoming very hnnghh but I want to thank everyone who read, left kudos, commented. You guys.... <3 As I said yesterday, I'm definitely answering every single comment under this chapter.  
> Some of the lore things didn't make it into the fic, I hope everything was explained and tied up, at least what needed to be here, because the open ending is... Right. Why the open ending? I've had this small thought, maybe in the future I will... you know, that ;) But it's the thing with continuations, that they tend to not be as good as the base text. Maybe I will revisit it one day, but I can't promise, so I hope the ending is satisfying as it is!!
> 
> Some post-canon stuff as a treat.... Goro moves in with Ren so they can... you know... plan and fight for justice ;) It turns out a necessary step in this is Ren teasing Goro with neck kisses and small bites every day. They are full of love UwU I heard Maha say Goro loses it one day and takes revenge, poor Ren's neck. Or is it ;)
> 
> link to the artwork by Poichanchan on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Poichanchan/status/1322664508603641858?s=20)  
> _______________
> 
> the beautiful design for Fox's hunter costume (and Lion mask! and silencers!) by noosey-woosey on [tumblr](https://noosey-woosey.tumblr.com/post/633745471228215296/kronk-voice-oh-yeah-its-all-coming)  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Mara_dine)  
> Find [Poichanchan](https://twitter.com/Poichanchan) too!


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